Serenade of a Slave
by inkwellSiren
Summary: Long before the story of Grace and Connor began, is the tale of a Siren. She is kidnapped and serves as the caretaker for the heir of the most powerful pirate family to ever sail the oceans Forbidden to rejoin her oceanic comrades, years pass As her little charge grows her life slowly diminishes What will become of this creature whose life is left in the hands of the Pirate Prince?
1. Opening

Serenade of a Slave: Opening

A melodic thumping draws me from my trance. It calls to me, resonates all around me as I float in the icy black of the ocean. Fathoms extend above and below me, and yet even in the dark I am not alone. The beating is steady, with an almost palpable undulation that flows in a wave-like pattern towards me. I too, add to this rhythm; my contribution varying slightly, yet deemed unremarkable in the presence of so many others.

A ray of light filters down to us in the dark and I feel it is time. I cry out, one voice, alone, to the blinding oblivion. A string of notes questioningly asking: Are you there? They reverberate with the original pulse and spread outward from myself. A ripple in the musical water. Like a stone my notes grow stronger and collect into chords, weaving themselves in time to the cadence we have naturally laced.

Another voice, one different from my own echoes back the small elements of a greater piece back to me. They are followed by another voice, and the chosen chords fill a small pocket of the ocean's void briefly. We are awake. The time has come. I propel myself upwards, ascending at a moderate pace.

As I break away the gentle pounding lessens, my connection is waning, but where the old one is severed new ties begin to form. I am followed. I continue to sing, expelling notes in the lightless space and I swim upwards in a lazy spiral. My voice goes from one to three as I am joined by two more. They follow me, spiraling as I do, adding to the song I have started. Although they are both Harmony and Melody, we still lack enough counterparts to be deemed whole.

Casting a look downward I see more of us rising to join our miniscule trio. Our voices strengthen with theirs and our spiral becomes a helix. Obsidian gives way to dim twilight and languidly we climb, continuing to sing as we go. Our garments flutter like flower petals dancing in the wind as we spin through the many fathoms.

At last, the majority of the plumbs necessary to reach the uppermost levels of the water have been overcome and we freely swim through the bright cerulean breaking our formation in favor of chasing light beams. The elation of awaking is quickly replaced by a different feeling, one of the most primal urges. Hunger. We are most fortunate for a large fishing schooner has chosen to pass over us. It isn't long before Accelerando is calling out for order as she begins the piece. Allegro adjusts the tempo with a few quicker chords and we all soon adapt. The whimsy of our awakening song is replaced by the jazzier and more upbeat feel of this predatory arrangement.

Allegro circles the underside of the ship, her fuchsia coverings trailing behind her elegantly. It isn't long before we all begin to follow her in a line, a much wider spiral than before. Our garments flutter out behind us like fins as we begin to stalk our prey. Melody cuts through the spiral to join Allegro, and her counterpart, Harmony agilely swims faster to catch up with her. The very two who joined me not so long ago now move to lend their talents to our current conductor.

The water has not yet carried our song up to the surface as we are merely humming the introduction, like bubbles we can only go upward from here, we are not yet ready to spring our assault. The bright hues emanating from our collective wardrobe must have attracted the fishermen's attention as they have dropped anchor—which cut directly down the center of our spiral—and have begun to throw nets into the water with hopes that they might haul in a school of beautiful fish. They will be quite mistaken.

Still unaware of the danger that lurks beneath them, we continue to finalize our attack configuration. After ushering a quick stream of babbling notes back and forth the strategy is finalized. One section of us will become "snared" in their nets as if they landed a massive catch while the rest of will slowly progress out of the water to accompany them. Together, we will all assault the crew and feed from them as they stand dazed by our beauty and enchanted by our song.

The plan is set and the feeding begins. As one we sing, the water ripples from the force of our interwoven voices and we ascend. "_I've got you…under my skin._" I am part of the group chosen to scale the ship after the fishermen are distracted by the sudden heaviness in their nets. I use my extended talons to dig into the ship's side as I climb, the wood is slick with sea spray and deposits of salt. Since their ship isn't particularly fancy—it is a mere fishing schooner—it doesn't take long to reach the deck. I am already over the railing and stretching seductively before the men onboard notice. "_I've got you deep in the heart of me…_"

We do not normally hunt in the daylight, so to actually see prey awake or sober is different for the chorus I am in. However, this is not our territory, so as a way of showing respect to the local chorus, my pack temporarily adopts their hunting practices, as well as allows them first pick of the prey. "_So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me…I've got you…under my skin_."

As we swarm them the men greet us with open arms, praising their fortunes in a language I can only roughly understand. When I finally have one to feed on I am able to note that we could have charmed them with looks alone. This group of men is so weak-minded that a hunt song would not have even been necessary. "_I'd sacrifice anything come what might/For the sake of havin' you near. In spite of a warnin' voice that comes in the night/And repeats, repeats in my ear_…" I toy with my victim for a little bit, coaxing out as much adoration as I can before I choose to feed. I can almost see it, the air between us is thick with his infatuation and soon it will be perfectly primed for consumption. I bring him in close and sing darkly, my lips at his ear, "_Don't you know, little fool, you never can win? Use you mentality, wake up to reality_…" It would be interesting to see if a human could actually resist the seductive notes of my voice but I have yet to see it happen. I tilt his face with one hand and cup his chin with another. Our lips are millimeters from touching, but they never will. The first tendrils of his adulation flow down my throat and I sigh with content. His "love", is spicy from his motherland's drink and quite warm. There isn't much to take, and all too soon I find my victim unconscious and slouching in my clutches. I could acquire more, but I don't like to harm my prey unlike some members of our chorus.

In the past I have been called weak due to my hesitation to kill my victims, and while not everyone shares these sentiments most know better than to throw that fact back in their faces. They won't dare to pull any of those stunts while we are in unfamiliar waters, but I know how malevolent my fellows can be if they're hungry enough. If their feed was as unsatisfactory as my own, then I know that we won't make it far out of this chorus' territory before we stop to feed once more.

I gently lay my sleeping victim against a coil of rope, and it would seem the others are doing the same. Not necessarily placing their victim in a decent position as I have, but nonetheless declaring that we are through with this ship. A call for retreat goes out, and soon the air is filled with the sound of our bodies diving back into the water.

It is time for us to continue our journey home and the united chorus sets off in a southern direction. A song, led by the radiant and lithe Symphonia, soon ripples in the water and in the bubbles we leave behind us. Our voices echo amidst the depths, everyone is content to just _be_ as we head for warmer waters. "_What good are the words I say to you? They can't convey what's in my heart/ If you could hear instead/ The words I've left unsaid_…"

On my left two of the native chorus' members—one in maroon and the other in deep velvet purple coverings—are giggling at the song's irony. I fail to share the humor but smile nevertheless as I surpass them. "_Time after time/ I tell myself that I'm/ So lucky to be loving you_."

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><p>Lakme – The Flower Duet<p>

Frank Sinatra – I've Got You under My Skin

Frank Sinatra – Time After Time

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><p>AN: The credits to the used songs belong to the artists listed, this goes for the rest of songs to be used in later chapters. I do not have any rights to the music used, nor do I claim to. I do however, have a playlist made on Youtube that will contain all of the music I use, in order of appearance. Perhaps you'll find something that interests you. Feel free to rate and review at will. At times I made need a music suggestion, but I am willing to accept some if I feel they meet certain basic criteria. Thank you and Happy Reading.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One Mezzo

A constant swim through the night ensured we that were able to reach the coastal waters of an Asian island before daybreak. No one wanted to rest in the slightly polluted waters of the nearest inlet so the chorus opted to go further into open water before stopping. Now free of our Siberian hostesses we chose to return to our normal hours of activity. As the sun passed over our underwater nook in its journey for the West, I watched quietly as my comrades stirred.

It isn't long before the natural sounds of underwater life were drowned out by quick streams of melodious yet discordant noise as everyone began to chatter excitedly about the various possible hunting grounds. I spoke to no one, merely taking in the various conversations that were going on all around me. I "sit" like that for what must have been at least a few hours, as the sunset turns into twilight, the moon slowly making its way towards us, night is approaching.

For a brief moment I lock eyes with someone doing the same, amber orbs glittering in the fading light. Her eyes crease alongside her knowing smile and she lifts one bronze-covered hand to wave slightly at me. I return the gesture, but without the same smile. Carol is a sweet creature, and while she is quiet in a lovely and demure way, I am silent because of indifference and due to an apparent distaste towards the chatty nature of my kind.

Suddenly, like a tide gathering strength, the combined voices of Accelerando and Adagio crash into the conversations of everyone else, obliterating their exchanges and leaving only the importance of their announcement in their wake.

"We have found tonight's hunting ground." Adagio exclaims sounding as if she were breathless. This is not the case, she is just prone to speaking quite swiftly, as her name suggests. "It seems there is a rather large boat whose course will bring it rather close to our _current_ location." She stops to laugh at her own weak joke. A few others join in, I simply shake my head. "We must wait until total nightfall before we can storm the ship. After that, we are all free to do what we want." She licks her lips suggestively, and I know that there will more than a few corpses left in our aftermath.

Excited chatter briefly starts up again before Accelerando stops them once more. "There should be plenty of prey to go around, so be sure to feed a fair amount. We still have many fathoms to traverse before we will reach our home waters and I doubt there will be much prey out in the vast and empty sea." She too speaks quickly, but not with the same vivacity as her hungry counterpart. With those final words she and Adagio turn to join their circle of friends while everyone else picks up where they left off.

I retreat once more into myself, the freely flowing pieces of my garments curtaining me off from the others. I can still see them through the sheer material, and I can certainly still hear their every word but as long as I stay like this I can pretend that I am alone. A look towards the surface reveals that the moon is almost fully risen, the final dregs of sunlight are finally being chased out. I feel my own hunger stirring deep within me, vibrating on quiet strings, pulsing in time to our collective heartbeat. Soon, we will feed.

xXx

We travel in eerie silence towards our destined feeding ground. The lights of nearby Tokyo reflect off of the surface of the water occasionally, only to be replaced by the steadfast moon, and her brave accompaniment of stars that refuse to be washed out by the human nightlife. It is easy to determine when we are close for not only are we cast in shadow by a large shape obstructing the glow of the moon, but also by the loud up-tempo music that can even be heard down in the water's depths.

A simple chord is passed down the formation, signaling that it is time to ascend. The rise is slow, we don't want to startle any of the people on deck that may just happen to look down at the water below them. Someone might get curious as to why there is abnormal bubbling coming from beneath the water's surface. I sincerely doubt anyone would really care, but it pays to be cautious anyway. We are just under the boat when the chorus begins to split in groups of two or three. I fully expected to hunt alone, and yet to my great surprise Harmony and Melody swam over to join me. Harmony's pale blue eyes glittered and reflected the neon lights of the nearby city's life, while Melody's smoldering rubies teemed with excitement. Both however, bore the same intense look of hunger and as a trio we broke for the surface.

Our entrance to the human ship was delayed, it would be in bad form to board all at once, and someone might become suspicious. It soon became apparent once we were on deck that no one would have cared if we were stealthy or not, for this wasn't some group of fishermen or even travelling merchants. This was a party boat, overflowing with privileged youth and their adoration for the fun the night brings.

Like our previous Russian game, most of the individuals found our looks appealing without any other needed prompting. Our outfits made us seem exotic in nature, and our near-translucent skin shimmering in the neon only added to that notion. Each of our little groups were visually breathtaking and found to be a hot commodity. We all split to explore the ship, and to find locations where we could feed and store the remainders of our prey; some would be found less than whole the next morning.

The air is thickly permeated with strong scents all fighting for dominance: drug and smoke vapor, the stench of sweat and steam rising from the unexhausted dancers, and the sickly perfume of human lust and the temporary relief that follows. Hunger pangs in my system, and I find myself thinking that any one of these humans could be satisfactory at least for a few moments. Instead of lunging at the first passerby, I follow Harmony's lead, Melody and I showing the same self-control as we move from one packed room to another. All of these humans are so young, young enough to still be considered minors in some cases. Their teenage bodies desperately seeking only what adults legally possess, yet still managing to fall short of the mark once they find it.

We enter a room coated with swirling coloured light, it is soft and enticing, far different from the harsh neon of the other areas. Harmony turns to stare at the both of us and as she spins in place her apparel's ribbons—ironically it looks like a more slinky and far shorter kimono, the outfit for which this area is known—flutters out behind her, with a small smile gracing her lips,. The light color changes and darkens the chamois and glade-green on her dress more than actually is. She grabs Melody's hand and pulls her into the swaying crowd.

I figured the two would hunt together, and I don't mind, I prefer a more intimate feed from my prey. I feel I can curb my hunger better that way. I give them a few moments to begin their chase before I move to join the rhythmically shuffling throng. The current music is wordless and provides the perfect backdrop for my own song. I haven't zeroed in on a certain person yet, but soon enough I'll have plenty to choose from. Or I could just devour all of them.

The tempo picks up and I sway seductively in time with the music, singing just loudly enough for those near to be drawn to, but not so loud that it interferes with my comrades' own composition. "_You're so hypnotizing… Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?_" I lock eyes with potential prey, one set of eyes after another are already captivated by the few notes I've released into the air. They draw closer. "_Your touch magnetizing/ Feels like I am floating/ Leaves my body glowing…_" I reach for one but pull away before we touch, spinning almost into the arms of someone else, only to flit off just as quickly. I can sense their attraction from here. This is too easy. "_You're from a whole 'nother world… A different dimension…_"

Internally I am smirking, and am filled slightly with contempt for this simple-minded prey. Just once, I would like a challenge, or to be presented with real temptation. I could deviate into viciousness and literally feed from my victims like some of my fellows are wont to do… No… my own morals would never support it. I force the desperate thoughts from my mind and focus on the banquet around me. I meld deeper with my song, increasing the output of my overall enticement. I can feel slight physiological changes occurring throughout my body as I rapidly adjust to become more appealing to the prey swarming around me. "_You open my eyes…"_

My chest grows and the fabric covering it tightens from being filled so abruptly. I can feel myself becoming a tad taller, curvier, and overall far fuller than my normal self. This glamour is only temporary but I'm slowly being lost in the delicious attraction that flows out from all of them. I can almost taste the desire in the air. "_And I'm ready to go/ Lead me into the light!_"

The anticipation breaks and I pull the current person I'm facing into me. He's not much taller than I but returns the hold with equal excitement. He's animated yet slightly dazed, it wouldn't surprise me if he is on some substance or another right now. I take in as much as I can from him at once, the strobe light conveniently disguises any evidence that I am feeding. His emotions are little more than a crush, but thick with enough yearning for me to drain. "_Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me_…" I don't seize much, I don't want to risk injuring him by simply letting him fall unconscious onto the floor. Instead I coax him to go find some nice spot to rest in and release him. No sooner has his back turned before I have already latched onto another victim.

I am intoxicated by the sensation of rapid group feeding. It isn't often we find quarry in such abundance. The next individual is a girl, and she doesn't seem to care whose arms she is wrapped in right now. Her eyes are closed, and I lean in close to her ears, in reality I'm whispering my song, but for her I am all she hears. "_Infect me with your love and/ Fill me with your poison._"

The irony is only a bit distracting as I consume her raw admiration for me, too soon I have sent her walking away to rest. I must continue, I am too hungry to stop. "_Take me, ta-ta-take me…_" My next target has already indulged in the pleasure of various sins while here despite his young age. I taste him sparingly, and deem him just old enough to be able to feed on. I refuse to imbibe on any feelings from youth less than a certain age; this one barely qualifies. "_Wanna be a victim/ Ready for abduction_."

They're feelings are so spoiled, and while group feeding throws me into a frenzy and the heady feeling is mildly delightful, I would still prefer just one decent and filling person for consumption. As I turn to pull in yet another person to feed on after rejecting two more, I catch a glimpse of Melody and Harmony from a break in the crowd out of the corner of my eye. They are locked in an embrace, pressing sensually into one another, their hands tangled together for one moment and roaming the next second. The circle of people around them are totally entranced by the performance and I have to give them credit for using such tactics. It's not entirely surprising for them to do so though, they must feel as disappointed as I to resort to such a large-scale performance. The mob of people shifts and my view of them is suddenly cut off.

I dance my way through the mass, consuming emotions like a human would munch tasty hors' d'oeuvres at an engagement. Quite promptly I become intensely bored with the exhilarating yet unfulfilling nature of group feeding and my increasing annoyance even threatens to change my internal composition from Mezzo to Staccato. Briefly, the thought of returning to the nook until the others are finished crosses my mind, but a deep reverberation from the beast I call Hunger demands that I find at least something adequate enough to devour before leaving.

Noiselessly, I make my way to the stern of the ship, dodging flailing partiers and intoxicated members of my chorus as well. More than once, I step over a carelessly tossed and now vacant body, his or her chest gaping open with the lack of a heart extremely noticeable to one such as me. The back end of the ship is fairly empty, save for a few dozing bodies, slumped over railings, various objects, and each other. This area lacks the heat and vigor of the other more occupied places on the ship, but the coldness is refreshing. Despite how famished I feel, it is good to be alone once more.

A scraping noise distracts me from my body's discontent and from within the blackness I detect a rope extending far out behind the ship. The rope is connected to a tiny little rowboat, with one lonely passenger guiding it. The opportunity for proficient nourishment has me diving over the side and into the water without hesitation.

Katy Perry – E.T.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The boat isn't far behind the larger ship, so mere seconds after hitting the water I've already come upon its underside. It appears to contain only one passenger, a young male and judging from his clothes he must have belonged to the party. He also seems quite intoxicated given his sluggish behavior, lack of fine motor control, and that he can't seem to process why he isn't making any headway out into the water, and of all things why he is sailing backwards. He failed to disconnect his little rowboat from the larger barge, hence the rope that caught my attention.

The poor fool is so lost in his drunken state of mind that he has given up on row and is just laying out as sprawled as he can in the small vessel. Even when I lift myself out of the water and board the craft—rocking the tiny thing precariously—he doesn't even bother to investigate the disturbance, he merely lolls his head lazily from one side to the other in flow with the rocking, until everything evens out.

I sit there, unnoticed by him, Hunger beating out an anxious rhythm within me, for what was no more than five minutes. Apparently, a wave of nausea forced him to sit up suddenly, the lightly oscillating waves adding to his obvious discomfort. The shock of seeing someone in front of him must have taken his mind off of releasing his insides to where it was no longer necessary.

He was mildly attractive given his age. Framing his face were shaggy locks of poorly dyed black hair with iridescent purple strands tucked in various spots. A slight smattering of youthful acne dotted his slightly gaunt cheeks and chin. It seemed that he had the makings of a strong face, one that might suit a successful leader in the human world because the his entire facial structure seemed to be built around a pair of deep grey eyes, akin to quicksilver. His flashy clothes, contradictory in its color choices, screamed money and privilege like the others I saw previously.

All this wealth, from the good looks to his obvious good fortune, yet I could still detect an emptiness in him even with his soused condition. I was attracted to his misery, and it only incensed my hunger more. The group feeding not long ago meant nothing now. I was starving, and on this creature—one a few steps shy from being a man—I would feed.

"Who're you?" He slurred, his questioning hands suddenly grasping the edges of the boat for support. I blink slowly at him, unanswering. Waves crash in the distance behind us and the music on the larger ship changes for something more upbeat and edgier. Even out here, I can tell that the beats are being cut harshly. Not exactly something of my preference, but one must work with the hand they have been dealt—or so the human saying goes. "My name's Jason Petrov. I came to this party thinking it would be a gr-gr-great way to kick off my new life as a runaway. Pretty sweet right? The plan is that I'll just sail from boat to boat, picking up chicks and foods while I'm there and then hop in my boat and go to the next one. I bet I can travel around the world this way! Don't you agree?" Even with the alcohol making a mockery of his speech, he was surprisingly coherent. I say nothing in response, merely watching as his hyper gesticulating forces him to grab the sides once more as he fights down sickness.

He recovers, and points an accusatory finger at me. "Where do you get off telling me how to live my life? I didn't ask to move to this country. I didn't ask to be made into an outsider because I'm not from here. I didn't tell my father to accept a promotion and become a fancy-schmacy ambassador for negotiating between Europe's and Asia's powers. The Japanese don't take too kindly to those who aren't Japanese. Especially when it's some spoiled rich kid with deep pockets and no connections." He briefly drops his hand in favor of sticking his head between his knees and sucking in deep gulps of air. He continues to speak from his current position, continuing as if nothing were unusual in the slightest.

"It's not extreme for me to run off just because my parents have no time for me while their running around in the political circus. Excuse me for wanting a little attention." He drags out the sarcastic attempt at seeking pardon, then hurriedly looks up at me with fat tears rolling down his bumpy cheeks proclaiming, "I love you. So much. You're my best friend y'know?" before leaning over the side to dry heave repeatedly. Spittle drips from his mouth with each unsuccessful attempt at vomiting. Ew. Even so, I'm too hungry to be picky now.

So is this the cause of his emptiness, a lack of social acceptance, and perceived abandonment? Is my voracious attraction for him because I feel that I can relate to his plight? To be honest with myself, I know I don't belong in my chorus. Though I've been with them for almost as long as I can recall during my life—which isn't all that long compared to some—I have never felt that I truly belong with them. I get a taste of acceptance when I'm with Carol, Melody, Harmony, and a few others but one minute altercation with one of our murderous associates and I'm set fathoms back into my own shell.

Regardless of how much I relate to this boy caught at the crossroads of manhood and naivety, one thing is very clear to me. He needs to go home in spite of how he feels about the whole situation. His plan for survival on these seas won't get him very far, and even if he did clear these waters, he won't last more than a few days out in the open ocean, maybe a week at most.

Unlike myself, he can find a way to belong, even if it involves reaching into his past to bring some of that comfort with him. A little nostalgia could go a long way in helping him find a way to adapt and move on. I could be wrong, I'm not human. My situation is different, I can't bring myself to "adapt" to some of the others' lifestyles. I am a parasite with a conscious, and as symbiotic as my relationships with prey may be, I won't kill them. I refuse.

So now I must ask young Jason Petrov one simple question, "_Can I take you home?_" The previous change in the music's tempo is now echoed and amplified thus providing the perfect backdrop for my song. "_Said her name was romance, I said I'm impulsive/ Swallowed my nerve and ate my dignity_." It's awkward trying to maneuver seductively in the little rowboat; this one isn't as simple to attract in comparison to my recent targets. While still young like the others, his internal dilemma and the drink in his system surprisingly inhibits my more obvious talents. "_I think I'm making progress, she's faking naïve/ All this false innocence amuses me_."

My body has long since returned to its normal appearance, and since Petrov lacked a personal preference or type for his interests—most likely due to his young age—I was free to look like my usual self. "_I don't mean to rush, or be obvious/ But like a magnet you keep pulling me._" I didn't have to move very far to reach Petrov's side of the rowboat but the key was moving lithely yet slowly. Too much movement might tip the boat or throw off the semblance of sensuality I've managed to hold on to. That, and I did not wish to be vomited upon because I rocked the boat excessively.

"_Into fixation…this mad compulsion. Don't wanna stop, will you come with me?_" I've practically mounted him in this limited space, and as uncomfortable as I feel about the precariousness of our position, I have him damn near enthralled. The greyness in his eyes is almost dizzying and yet they held a very concentrated look. As if he were still retaining a measure of control despite how powerless he truly is at the moment. I'm sure his father maintains a similar expression of composure while negotiating treaties between rival nations. "_Can I take you home?_"

His hands circle my waist and climb up my back; his touch cold from sea spray and open air. However, against my own flesh, they feel slightly warm. "_Open yourself up to me and surrender/ Can I take you home?_" All the time we spend in the depths leads to lower body temperatures; I must be freezing against him. Oh well. At least he has all that alcohol to keep him cozy. "_We'll lock out the world and stay here forever/ Can I take you home?_"

His adoration comes to me in thick gradual waves, each undulation imbued with the loneliness of bittersweet longings and regret for opportunities now lost. There is deep worry for the unknown future and torment over how much pain he feels he might cause. Coating his misery is a riverbed of love for his parents and the friends is used to see, as well as desire to find his niche here in a new environment. This "grand" plan of his was the work of momentary weakness and fear. There is enough residual emotion for his old life to spark hope in the new one. With a little bit of my help, I instill in him the strength to return to his family, and embrace the future going on around him. "_Can I take you home?"_

I can sense the first pinpricks of sunrise as I slip into the water. Young Jason Petrov is now snoozing contentedly in what was almost his vessel to a doomed life. When he awakes, he will have practically reached the shore, and from there he will return to his awaiting family. From beneath the water I gently pull his boat into the appropriate current's path after untying it from the forgotten party ship.

My interaction with him will be nothing more than a dream, one that will slip away before he even has the chance to recount it. He will remember nothing of the green-haired creature who played a pivotal role in his return and I'm okay with that. We live in two separate worlds, and with time, I will forget his existence as well.

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><p>Breathe Carolina - Can I Take You Home?<p> 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Staccato

We are home. Our journey homeward is concluded now that we are once more in our own territory. The migration, while insightful, only made me yearn for the warm and vibrant waters of home, and all the appetizing prey that traverse them. I'm not the only one with these thoughts for every ship that has passed over us we have attacked. Someone is always hungry. While it is impossible to actually feel full, I curtailed my feeding early on, finding the excessiveness of the practice wasteful and unnecessary.

Perhaps it is the internal change of switching from Mezzo to Staccato that prejudices me into beholding the spectacle with distaste, but overall it's a bit difficult to be happy about being home when members of the chorus return to their homicidal practices. Those who wouldn't dare consume live hearts outside of our territory are doing it so much it's as if they're trying to make up for lost time. It's rather disturbing honestly. I recall one of the fishing schooners that had the misfortune of coming into our range. I watched in silent horror as Allegro and Accelerando lured in a man, and once he had been rendered helpless by the power of their charms, they ripped out his still-beating heart ate it then and there. The blinding yellow of Allegro's clothes slowly became saturated with his fluids, its hue almost blending in with the jagged blood-orange zigzags streaking across her garments. The unknown man died with this own blood raining down upon him as two monsters gorged upon the wellspring of feeling concentrated there. I admit, I have wondered and perhaps even fantasized about the taste of such feelings. Pure, unfiltered, the entire range of human emotion encased in one vessel. Such a thing must be like an addictive ambrosia for my kind.

As enticing as such a treat might be, I am unable to succumb to such thoughts. There's a reason for why I was created with such a strong moral code. One that dictates "thou shalt not kill thy prey" and that "children, couples, married people, and those heavily in love are off-limits". It is better for me to feed repeatedly upon many or to go without feeding to the "fullest", than to risk harming any of my prey. If one of us were to drain too much emotion from one of our targets—going far past the point of just consuming the adoration we create by charming them—we could risk permanently damaging that person's emotional capabilities. In simpler terms, we could make it so that the victim could never love again, or feel any sort of emotional highs for that matter. I imagine it would be like a life completely stripped of color and sensory feeling. What a terrible existence to inflict, and shame on my comrades who choose to do so to their game anyway. Still, I suppose it would be better than outright murdering them, but then again…Death would ensure that they don't have to attempt to survive in such a painful life.

These circular thoughts are interrupted when we are called to pursue yet another ship. I will aide in the quarry's capture, but I will not join in the dining that follows. There has been no change to the hunt song we have been singing all day and its outright promise of imprisonment feels incredibly obvious to me. "_You can run, you can hide but you can't escape my love_…" I board the ship with ease but hang back by the railings and observe the madness. "_If you feel like leaving, I'm not gonna make you stay..._" I am not the only one who has done so. Harmony and Melody stand not too far off from me. Their hands clasped in an attempt to provide comfort amongst the carnage. "But soon you'll be finding…" Across the ship and to the right linger Symphonia, Crescendo, and Aria. Aria is entangled daintily in the ship's netting so as to avoid having any of the spilt blood seep into her snow-white dress. The lower half of her garment trumpets outward and its color gradients into a majestic lavender. Blood sprays into the air as a man's heart is wrenched from his chest cavity. Poor Aria's efforts are in vain as droplets rain down upon her, they glitter with violence against the colorless background of her gown. She turns her face away from the massacre, and if I wish I could follow suit. As if looking away were the key to resolving the whole debacle.

"_You can run. You can hide. But you can't escape my love_." Those who refuse to indulge in the gore follow my lead as I disembark from the bloody ship. I've stopped contributing my voice to their hunt long ago but their song's melody chases me down into the dark. "_You can run. You can hide. But you can't escape my love_." Bodies join me within the water's protection. Humans can't reach us here, at least not for very long without suffering consequences. Their music is like a nightmare, and I spiral down, down, down in an attempt to escape the grisly slayings and their haunting music. But I can't.

"_You can run. You can hide. But you can't escape my love_."

* * *

><p>Enrique Iglesias – Escape<p> 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

No matter where we go, we always manage to find prey. Any and all are worthy of consumption in their eyes. My carnivorous fellows have but one redeeming quality. They don't skimp or cheat when it comes to seducing their prey. Our hunts have become more psychologically compelling. The ironic meanings tucked into our songs are dark, twisted, conveying the allure we need to exude, whilst blatantly giving away the hazard and maliciousness that follows our appearance. Even with all the complexity woven into the music, it seems my comrades are finding their feeds are unsatisfactory. Or at least that's my perception. For it seems that they are trying to drain more love and adoration from their victims. The usual depths aren't satiating them and they seek to rectify this issue which of course places the quarry at risk. But…since when have these brutal creatures ever cared for their welfare of their meals?

Personally I've taken a step back from the entire situation. The displeasure I feel towards their practice leaves me feeling that it is necessary to become even more detached than usual to protect myself. While these actions fulfill my current namesake, they leave me feeling like I am betraying myself. Keeping my thoughts and opinions to myself prevents any of that lethal violence from being directed at myself, yet I am beginning to feel guilty for not speaking up. Worse yet, I'm starting to feel as if I'm the one in the wrong. Should I really take more and leave my targets to their fate?

I find myself falling back on individuals such as Harmony and Melody, who too have chosen to abstain from the harmful customs of our chorus. Them, along with a few others, are my constant reminders that I am not alone in thinking that this whole matter has gone too far. It is possible to feed without inflicting harm on our prey. It is a practice we have been following for many millennia, so why change now?

Will this stalemate result in an ultimatum? Is there a choice that we must make? And which side of the violence will I find myself on?


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I've spent much of my daylight hours thinking and pondering while entranced concerning what must be done about our current situation. I refuse to be tempted any longer, I also refuse to bear witness to such crimes against humanity. However, I recognize that I no means or enough power to dissuade them from their appetites. They literally have a taste for blood, and I'm positive they will go to any lengths necessary to feed in the way they want. My options are so limited and so I have arrived at the only possible conclusion.

"We leave." I whisper to my selected comrades. Like a coward with its tail between its legs, I propose we flee. There's nothing keeping us here and if numbers are an issue, I'm certain we are free to join another chorus. I'm willing to do so, even if it means leaving such balmy waters behind for more frigid ones.

"When? Now?" Harmony asks, her pale blue eyes disguising the evident concern in them by toying with one of the ribbons from her dress.  
>"Soon." I lower my eyes too, praying that if I do not seek out attention, I will not draw it in return.<p>

"What about the others?" Melody inputs. One of her hands faintly brushes across the backs of Harmony's and the two exchange a worried glance. The gesture lasts no longer than a second, but my curiosity peaks. Now is not the time or place to pry into the particulars of their relationship. Maybe they're just very, very close.

"Others?" I admit, although I wasn't very close to these two, I still felt that I knew them better than the others. Since they are in reality my only friends, I feel that extending trust and judgment to them would be safe. It's not like the others can honestly stop us from leaving. I nod. "Others are welcome too."

The two smile happily, but not quick enough to hide their surprise at my statement. It is unusual for me to speak so much; that might have been the longest sentence they have ever heard me utter. I shall surprise them again. "We leave when the time is right." They both nod and turn swim off, presumably to go invite others to partake in our exodus.

Now that I've set the players in motion I feel as if I can breathe again after being denied of air for an exasperatingly long time. Soon, we shall be free of our deadly associates. No human shall be maimed as a result of our hunger. The same goes for emotional death. I won't allow a single member of this new chorus the ability to drain excessively. I don't care how often we must hunt until everyone is satisfied. The use of lethality ends now.

xXx

We determined later that evening that we would partake in one final hunt with our soon to be former chorus. We being Harmony, Melody, Symphonia, Crescendo, Carol, Aria, Vivace, and myself. I was surprised at the number of us who were revolted by the others. Carol is the one who told me the list of prospective comrades, and it is she who also suggested that instead of feeding that we should focus on soothing the wounded that shall be left behind in the wake of the carnage. She noted that none of us are particularly hungry anyway due to the rate at which we having been hunting. This is true, while I don't feel "full", I'm not famished either. Besides, we can hunt freely after we put some distance between us and them. After a few hard days of travel I'm sure we'll all be ready to eat by then. The plan was decided. We would depart after one last hunt.

I was in no way prepared for what would ensue.

The targeted ship was a private one, emanating money but not lavishly so. As far as private boats go, this one was on the smaller side of moderate luxury. As we boarded it became obvious that this was a very secluded affair, only about ten men were present. The way they spoke and smelled suggested they were fishermen but the bottles scattered about their feet said they were celebrating. I was glad I had already decided not to eat, I probably would have been injured trying to claim one of the victims anyway.

The hunt song was thought-provoking, dark, and very twisted. The kind I would use if I wanted to get into someone's head, and distract them from what my true aims were. They would be so focused on the nature of my words that they wouldn't even try to unearth what I was doing to them. Like when we fed from the Russians alongside our Siberian escorts, we starting singing from beneath the water. They would become distracted by the music, grow curious as to its source, and be totally open to attack. When they would finally see all of the beautiful women rising from the water, it would be far too late for them. I enjoy these sort of attack styles because it is less dependent upon looks—which I've been told I'm lacking in—and more upon our skill in evoking attraction via singing. "_How I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me_."

The sides of the ship were slick and it was difficult to find sections capable of being gripped. Being one of more modern design, a majority of the siding was metal instead of wood. "It's like a book elegantly bound but, in a language that you can't read/ Just yet."

I couldn't tell something was off at first, I was resigned to letting the others devour their prey while the rest of us watched. Cavatina was greedy. She was attempting to charm two at once; since the rest of us weren't eating, she must have figured that meant more for her. "You gotta spend some time, Love/ You gotta spend some time, with me." One of the men, an attractive individual with olive skin and golden brown hair, broke free of the seductive hold on his mind. Since she was so close I witnessed the entire thing firsthand. "_And I know that you'll find, love/ I will possess your heart_."

I was so shocked my voice tightened and I ceased to sing. Never before had I seen a human actively break free of our embrace. I was certain she didn't relinquish him, since she seemed just as stunned as I. "_You gotta spend some time, Love/ You gotta spend some time, with me_." He and I made eye contact. Frantic electric green eyes met my own and he rushed at me. He clutched at my hands, which previously lay limply at my sides.

"Please you have to help me!" He was awake, he was aware. He knows. Through his touch and our intimate proximity, I could smell his fear, and sense the panic richocheting through his brain. For a brief moment I saw everything around us through his eyes, what this scene looked like to a human, and my gut wrenched at the insight brought on by this new insight.

Distractingly gorgeous women had flooded his friend's boat. Their presence brought seconds of exquisite singing which was soon replaced by the horrid sounds of bones being broken, internal things ripped out and exposed to the outside for the first time, followed by disgusting, inhuman noises. Tearing and squelching, biting and chewing. The women shown to be quite dangerous were devouring the organs of his friends. He was next, he knew it. But something…something allowed him to break free of the mental prison that had been imposed. And then he ran.

"_You reject my…advances…and desperate pleas_…"

His precarious mental state gave me access to his thoughts despite not being under my spell and confirmed my suspicions. The ring on his left hand was merely insult to injury. A funny twist of fate had made it so that his partner had proposed first. A concept that led to many jokes being made by his friends, but it didn't change the fact that his fiancé just saved his life. At least for the moment. Cavatina's charms failed because this man was in love. Or so I'm inclined to to believe.

I have always refused to feed on someone who I find out is in love, some see it as a respect for human relationships, but I merely regard the decision as just another tenant of my moral code. Today, this code would save a man's life.

"_I won't let you…let me down…so easily/ So easily._"

I pull the man protectively behind me, the obvious height difference wasn't important right now. Cavatina was displeased at losing her prey. She abandoned the man in her arms—sent him off to wait for her in a corner for her until she could return to feed on him—and alerted Allegro. She took a rather loud chomp out of the fresh heart nestled in her hand, blood dripping onto her sun-coloured dress, before tossing it callously onto the deck. Someone must have thought it was such a waste and snatched it up to be finished off. Accelerando soon followed into step behind her ally and together they crossed the ship to stand before me.

"Found your hunger after all? Or did you want this one all to yourself all along?" Allegro questions politely, but I know she's not looking for answers. Cavatina pouts, and urges them to help her reclaim what's hers.

I ignore her, and behind me the man whimpers. I glare as best as I can at them, finding that my face contorted with anger far too easily for my liking.

"Oh come now, don't make such a face." Allegro breathes out quickly. "You have so little going for you there already, don't make it worse." Her hands reach out and stroke my face once, her bloodied nails on the precipice of becoming talons. I slap her hand away and stare harder. "Hand him over to us." I shake my head, they will not take him from me.

Cavatina thinks she's slick and tries to charm him and lure him out from under me. "_**I will possess your heart.**_" She sings sweetly, but the air of menace leeches into her notes. The man flinches like he's just been hit but seems otherwise unaffected. Cavatina growls in frustration and goes for the direct approach. She runs at me, feet making quick work of the space between her and I only to find herself blocked by others.

Harmony and Melody materialize at my side, each taking a gentle yet possessive hold on one of the man's arms. They have his sides covered, while I guard his front. Cavatina comes to a directly in front of me, fuming and breathing heavily. "Move." She growls again and once more I proclaim defiance. "Move or I'll make you move." She brandishes her hands, curled into claws topped with fully-formed talons. Accelerando adds that she too is more than willing to help her friend take back her meal revealing her own blood-stained tools of death in the process.

Here it is, my predicted ultimatum. Staring me dead in the face, asking if I have a wish to be injured because of some man. It would go against everything leading up to now, including my own sense of justice and idealistic morals to hand this would-be victim over. This is where we shall make our stand.

"You will not have this man. You will not rip him open and feast upon the viscera found there. You will not take him from me. You will not take him from us. You will gather your party and disembark from this ship. You will allow these men to tend to their dead and dying. And you will not give chase." I tell them adamantly.

"Who are you to tell us what to do?" Allegro threatens pressing in closely to our small huddle, she is breathing directly in my face, her voice no louder than a whisper even with its scathing tone. The rest of their chorus has now joined them. Most of their faces drip with fresh blood. The deep crimson spattering the deck below them in steady drops.

"I think you mean we. It is not I telling you to go, it is we who are demanding that you leave these men. At once." Mimicking their chorus, ours made its cessation known for the first time as the members clustered around me. There was more standing by my than I would have thought. Symphonia, Crescendo, Carol, Aria, and Vivace, along with Harmony, Melody, and myself. We all sought to protect this man and his fellow survivors. Though we were outnumbered by the original chorus, it was more than enough to prove our conviction was strong.

We formed a coalition, an impenetrable shield to save at least this one man, and though we may protect him and others now, would that stop this chorus from unleashing harm on us? My question was answered.

Allegro motions for the others to leave, turning their backs on us as they run to the otherside of the deck and dive off. I breathe out a heavy sigh as the sound of bodies breaking the water fills up the void where our singing once was. It was wrong of me to cast my eyes downward. So very wrong of me to take my eyes off of Allegro and those closest to her.

A great rush of wind whipped around my face and before I could react Allegro had a hand around my throat and was lifting me into the air. She was strangling me, and while it hurt I was more concerned for the screams behind me. In my periphery I caught glimpses of Harmony caught in a similar situation, only she was pressed against the deck. Accelerando was attempting to maul her but was only succeeding in cutting up Harmony's arms as she she shielded her throat and face from attack. The "shield" did nothing to block out her shrieks of pain. Her blood was flung all around, sparkling in contrast to the already crimson deck.

Her cries didn't last for long as Melody leapt upon Accelerando, tearing into anything her talons came across. The key to attack however was that she was screaming and not in a normal range. Her voice had surpassed the necessary octaves for charming victims or speaking. This was a full-on vocal assault and I could tell that it was hurting Accelerando.

She fell away from Harmony, twitching against the deck, one hand cupped against her bleeding ear. Though Allegro's grip on my throat had initally been very tight, she had become distracted by her comrade's attack and the sudden loss. Her advantage proved to be a disadvantage, and diversion from her target a faulty mistake. I brought my knee up as quick as I could now that I could breathe decently again. My knee connected with her chin and I'm sure I just caused her to draw her own blood.

Her hand and body fell away joining her comrade on the deck. When she sat up, rubbing her jaw as rivulets of her blood streamed from her mouth. I grabbed her hands, roughly pinning them at her side. By the look on her face I'm sure she knew what was to come next. I'm glad she had the dignity not to beg.

Like Melody before me I used one our strongest tools, the power of our voice. Drawing in a deep breath, I looked Allegro square in her yellow-green eyes before unleashing a formidable scream intended for my defenseless prey. I didn't stop until she was on the deck, convulsing and bleeding from both ears. Her eyes were dark and vacant with only primal signs of life still bouncing around in them.

Motioning for someone to come aide me, we drag Allegro and Accelerando's bodies to the nearest railing and throw them overboard. Their bodies hit the water with a clumsy splash and gradually sink beneath the surface. The ship is now free of those who seek to cause harm. My attention is once more focused on the unnamed man.  
>It seems Vivace took it upon herself to see to his safety when we were compromised. A cursory glance tells me that he doesn't seem to injured in anyway, physically at least. I know he's in shock, and I can sympathize with that. Most humans are able to go their entire lives without encountering any other species; little do they know that there are actually a lot of nonhumans out there, carefully blending in or avoiding human society altogether.<p>

We are one of the few species that comes out in the open, but generally leave the humans without credible proof of our existence. Myths of our kind have persisted through the centuries, dating back to ancient civilizations whose stories warned travelers against any encounters with us. This man, would be one of those who lives to spread the rumour of enchanting women with harmonious voices and deadly appetites.

I kneel to reach be on his level, it would do no good for me to be looking down on him now. "Mister? Are you alright?" He swings his head until his eyes meet mine, and stares blankly back at me.  
>His speaks in a hoarse whisper. "…Alright?" He looks away. Gazes at the carnage before him. "…No…I don't think I'll ever be alright." He starts to shudder, the shock has him fully in its throes now.<p>

I stand and turn to face everyone. "Today we have secured our freedom. We are now at liberty to do as we please, no longer guided by a malicious composition. I will not claim to be our leader, I am merely another instrument, another voice in our new choir. I pray that we can be peaceful, and I would hope that this is a common wish. If not, I ask that you depart now. If you hurry, you can probably catch up with Allegro and the others, just follow the blood." I pause, taking the opportunity to look everyone in the eyes once, daring them to escape now. "Again, in no way do I feel that I am our leader, but just this once, will you please follow me and assist in the clean-up of this ship? Our host is in no condition to do so, and so that leaves us."

Whether they help or not is up to them, but I haven't even taken a step before everyone is moving, save for Harmony. Her arms had already begun to heal, but they wouldn't really begin to mend until she was back in the water, and I knew they would be far too tender for much action at the moment. I asked her to sit with the man, and keep him tranquil. I'm not sure I'm capable of handling human hysterics.

By the time we were finished, the bodies of six men were wrapped in makeshift burial trappings. One was critically injured, and would require medical attention once they reached a port. Aria found a way to sedate him, and her work should hold until they dock. It wasn't easy to do, the man was panicking from losing so much blood, and he fought her attempts to bandage him. The last three were uninjured, one was Cavatina's would-be prey—he was still somewhat entranced until Symphonia woke him up-, the host, and a man—younger than all the rest—whose hunter narrowly missed her chance to consume him before the chaos started.

"We have to make sure these men reach home." I tell the others, and they all nod in agreement. A plan formulates in my mind as I recall my prey from the other night. How I imparted my will onto him and ensured that when he awoke he used his little rowboat to carry him back to shore and from there home.

I guide the still-traumatized groom-to-be and usher two others to do the same with the remaining uninjured men. Vivace takes the young man and Crescendo grabs Cavatina's prey. They follow me to the center of the deck. I have the man rest up against the backs of his fellow men, and together they form a little triangle, each one of them facing one of us.

"We are not charming them, rather…We are healing them, giving them the strength to find their way home, and grow from this experience, instead of fearing it." I instruct the other two, Vivace nods, her eyes, like the palest of rose quartz, betray the confusion and lack of understanding in her mind. Crescendo's own cyan pair reflected the same feeling of doubt. "It's okay…" I croon to them in our natural tongue, conveying a far more gentle and trusting tone than any human language ever could. "I believe in you, just follow my example…"

The others have encircled us, curious to see what it is we may do and just how far we will go for these humans. I see Melody has very carefully taken one of Harmony's hands into her own. I almost envy their friendship, what strong pillars of comfort they must be for one another. I shove the feelings deep down, noting that if I ever find the courage, I should ask them how they became friends in the first place. Carol, seeing their gesture stretches out her hand for Melody to grasp as well, and Melody takes it with a pleasing smile. The others reciprocate the gesture all around, until we are enclosed in a friendly circle. We are united.

I turn back to the man seated before me, and kneel once more before him. I rest upon my heels, and stare into his languid green orbs, now cooled to resemble deep emeralds. I take his hands into mine, and begin to sing. I couldn't ask for a better backdrop for this song. The winds were calm, allowing the waves to roll with a mellow, pleasant ease. The sun had given way to the rising night heralded by a large waxing mood, and the last vestiges of twilight were set deep into the horizon. The first stars had begun to make an appearance, dotting the sky in vibrant yet rare twinkles. All around us nature provided the most beautiful of settings. "_Ba dheas an lá go oiche/  
>Na glórtha binne i mo thaobh<em>..." (It was beautiful all day/ The sweet voices by my side)

Waves crashed in time with my steady voice, and the vessel rocked lightly beneath us. "_'S aoibhneas i gach áit gan gruaim/ Áthas ar mo chroí go deo_…" (And beauty without despair everywhere/ Joy in my heart forever)

My fellows picked up on the song, some contributing by way of humming others by joining after the stanzas. "_He-a-ro_…" I had learned this song while we were on the migration, the locals—who were far older than I—knew a great deal of melodies in Gaelic and were happy to teach me a few. I left feeling a bit enlightened, with an arsenal of music swirling in my mind and a new language to accompany it all. _"…He-a-o-ro_..." those in the circle behind us sang, their voices melding into an arrangement capable of being worthy of the heavens.

Crescendo and Vivace joined me for the next section, no longer doubting the work we were doing. "_Ma shiúlaim ó na laetha beo/ An ghrian 's an ghealach ar mo chúl_…" (If I walk from the alive days/ The sun and the moon behind me). I could tell that our music was working. I could taste the man's tranquility as it glided through the air, twisting and bending as his mind worked out all the kinks his terror had sewn.

"_Nil uaim ach smaointe ó mo shaoil/ Deora ar mo chroí go bron_." (I'll only need thoughts from my life/ Tears sorrowfully on my heart )We stretched the last note, as the others filled the space around it. Cushioning the prayer like swaddling clothes wrapped around an infant child. "_He-a-ro_…" Collectively, we sang the final verses as a magical whole. "_He-a-ro_…" The circle broke and their ring slowly retreated, elegantly and inaudibly, they slipped into the ocean's embrace. Vivace and Crescendo left next in tandem, still singing, but without the same measure of strength our associates provided. "_He-a-o-ro_…" I could still hear them despite them being under the water's surface, no doubt they were circling the ship, allowing their voices to carry upwards as they swam in spirals further into the depths. "…_He-a-o-ro_…"

I was alone, all three survivors were asleep. I pressed three fingers against my lips, and brushed them across the man's forehead, slightly rustling the brown locks covering that same space. Embedded in that broken kiss was my will that this man—and the surviving members of the fishing crew he was a part of—would heal without difficulty, that he would go home and marry his chosen bride—or rather the bride that chose him—and that he would forget all about me, the creature he trusted in all the wake of frightening chaos all around him. He would forget me, the others would forget us, and in time, we would be unable to recall him.

It will only be through this song, that we possibly retain memories of this adventure, but only fleetingly so. "_Nil uaim ach smaointe ó mo shaoil/ Deora ar mo chroí go bron_." (I'll only need thoughts from my life/ Tears sorrowfully on my heart) I run to ship's bow, agilely scale it and swiftly dive from its peak. As I sink under the water, I permit one last cry of lament for the unfortunate fate that I partially allowed to befall these men, before swimming after my allies. "…_He-a-o-ro_…"

* * *

><p>Death Cab for Cutie – I Will Possess Your Heart<p>

Enya – Deora ar mo chroi

**Also known as Tears in My Heart:  
>How wonderful, from morning to night<br>the sweet voices at my side,  
>and happiness everywhere, without sorrow,<br>joy in my heart forever.  
>(Lament)<p>

If I walk away from life,  
>the sun, the moon behind me,<br>I have only the memories of my life,  
>and sad tears in my heart.<br>(Lament)**

* * *

><p>AN: I posted an alternative translation to the one used in the story because I thought it might make a little bit more sense that strict word by word translation alone.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

We swam all through the night and did not stop until the sun had reached it's peak the next day. We don't actually require rest, so we don't sleep, but the trances or "daydreams" we undertake allow us to mull over things in our mind, or disassociate from the world around us; the practice is like a form of meditation. We perched until late afternoon, nestled away in a vibrant coral reef with only the fish and little crustaceans to keep us company. I was certain that our former comrades wouldn't dare to track us down, nor would they return to prey upon the bachelor party.

I could see and smell the wounded in the water and my allies knew to swim in any other direction besides the one made of blood. It is isn't entirely impossible for them to find us though, for one Harmony was bleeding rather profusely from both arms until she hit the water, and even with her healing abilities heightened in the water she still has not fully healed. Our former chorus could easily follow her blood trail if they were hellbent on revenge. Another point is that the world is large, its oceans are practically infinite, and while some oceans are "smaller" than other oceans, that does not mean that we our chances of running into them are all that low. Minute yes, but still high enough to warrant an awkward reunion. These odds are slightly boosted by the fact that we have no intentions of leaving this territory, at least, no one has brought the idea forward yet. Even so, I don't plan on leaving unless it were absolutely necessary.

I figure with the depth that Accelerando's talons pierced the skin on Harmony's forearms, she would need to feed in order to completely heal. I'm sure the others would have no problem with stopping for a bite, and I'm feeling a bit peckish myself.

xXx

Group healing must have affected everyone more than I thought, or at least that was my first notion. We preyed upon not one or two, but three ships. I hung back during the first raid, preferring to keep watch in case our abandoned fellows made a sudden appearance. They did not, and my suspicions of being tracked or stalked slowly diminished. Even so, I refused to feed on the second boat as well, just in case I was proven wrong.

I didn't realize a third hunt would even be necessary until Carol pulled me aside and quietly told me that no one was satisfied with the previous two, and wondered if I would consider a third. Her tone was as amiable as ever and while I agreed, I was slightly alarmed at the realization that my companions might be looking to me as their leader. This wouldn't do. However, that particular issue would not be able to be rectified until after I had fed as well.

I know myself well enough to accept that just any old prey won't do, I won't stop until I was truly satisfied and I was pleased to find that my allies felt the same. While we won't go as far as to actually eat our prey like the others, we are not above feeding more than once even if it means excessive travel. Luckily we didn't have to go very far to find our next group of targets.

I led the assault, and the others must have sensed my hunger for they followed my lead without question. At this moment I would accept that they are, but later on I'm really going to have to say something. The ship was of moderate size, compact, and sleek with an obvious array of fancy features. A few laps around the boat spoke volumes as I learn very interesting facts about it. Primarily, that it was a tourist boat, and it was out on its beat, meaning that it was totally full of perfect game, full of potential and herded into one place.

I gestured to my fellows and they clustered around me in response. Fluid streams containing my plan resulted in a torrent of bubbles fixated on floating upward. "Are we understood?" I ask, and everyone nods. I too nod and we fan out.

This tourist boat was of a special variety, meaning it had a special glass bottom covering a portion of the ship's underbelly. Those who were the least hungry, meaning Aria and Vivace, would pose as distractions there while the rest of us scaled the ship. They would join us once the crowd was controlled and we would move from there.

On my signal they would begin to sing, covering for us as we boarded the ship. We were in position, Harmony and Melody were portside with me, Carol, Crescendo, and Symphonia were starboard. I chirped a swift chord for the two waiting just out of the glass' vision, letting them know were ready. Even though we were halfway out of the water by this point, I was still able to hear them once they began.

"_Hey…A casual affair…That could go anywhere/ And only for tonight_." They crooned entincingly. If their music could reach me from where I was, I knew they would have no trouble charming people through a few inches of thick glass.

"_Take…Any moment, any time…A lover on the left/ A sinner on the right_." Their words purred in my ears and as soon as I heaved myself over the railing I joined them. My voice resonated with theirs and our combined powers imprisoned our quarry like a thick cloud blocking out the sun's rays. It seemed that everyone—including the captain and those operating the tour—had been attracted to Aria and Vivace's presence beneath the ship's bottom. However, not all of them had made it there yet. Some were milling about on the stairs, gazing about with vapid eyes, easy smiles filling their faces. "_Just lay…in the atmosphere/ A casual affair_."

I allowed my comrades to choose their prey first, and while some thought it a show of kindness, it was actually an act stemming from worry. I had seen Harmony's arms as we ascended the ship and while she had fed previously, the flesh still bore the signs of being marred. Had the earlier targets proven to be so unsatisfactory that her body was unable to heal itself the way it should? This question plagued me, and I did not wish to deny my friend the nourishment she may need. "_Hush, hush, don't say a word_."

My act was returned in full, as they left a majority of the humans for me to feed on. While thankful for the rare chance to group feed, I still instructed a few humans to return to the upper decks and wait for Aria and Vivace to find them. This left a sizably delectable group, but I first had to weed out the children. Being a part of a new chorus did not affect my inner convictions in the slightest, and I intended to leave every future hunt with my morals well intact. "_Lay in the atmosphere/ A casual affair, whoa_!"

I sent the youth to another room, where they would be overcome by the "lullaby" being sang all around them and would fall asleep. They would awake once the adults had recovered. Some of these adults were married and I had to send those out of the room, along with parents too. Then there were the new couples to be sent along their way as well. I'm sure my allies were exchanging looks of confusion as they watched those who were eliminated suddenly appear upstairs. Even with my rejection process, there were still a decent amount of humans left in the room. It was then that I recognized just how well humans could pack themselves into one space. The people left over proved to be very tasty, and I fed from one to another with little issue. "Stay for as long as you have time/ So the mess that we'll become/ Leaves something to talk about."

By the time we finished eating, the sun had fully set and not a single residual glow or streak of light remained. We departed from the ship one by one, I was the last to leave. I wanted to make sure that the anchor had dropped so that the ship did not continue to drift with no one at the help to guide her. Our old chorus might not have even considered doing such a thing, especially after they had obtained what they came for.

As soon as I broke the water's surface we were off once more, all of us full and content judging by the happy warblings I heard. I know I was satisfied, and a swift glance at Harmony showed me her skin was right as rain once more. I didn't even have to look at her arms to know the damage was fully repaired because the way Melody was spinning her through the water told me everything I needed to know.

I should really inquire into some of the particulars of their relationship and maybe in return they might be willing to tell me how I could obtain such a close friend as well. Deciding that there was no time like the present, I gravitated over to them and lingered until they caught the message that I wished to speak with them. Swimming ahead of us was the rest of the chorus, they were all chatting together save for Carol. She seemed to too lost in her own thoughts to participate in conversation. I wondered what she was mulling so deeply over in her mind, but decided I would have to ask at a later time. For now, Melody and Harmony commanded my full attention.

"Greetings Staccato." Melody sang delicately, her voice enunciated my present composition to its fullest, her voice dropping in pitch suddenly as the notes detached themselves from the others.  
>"Hello Melody…Harmony." I nodded respectively to both, my voice entwining the two names together, one succeeding the other in the simple tune. "How are you faring?" I turned to gaze at Harmony who had chosen to swim alongside me while Melody was floating along parallel to my left.<p>

"I'm fine, this is the best I've been in a long time." She smiled broadly, and even rotated her body so that I could inspect where the former injuries had lingered for myself.

"And it is all thanks to you." Melody interjected, exchanging glances with Harmony, her face bore signs of relief, and she look as if she were lighter, both in body and soul overall. Was she really that concerned for her friend?

I wave off the remarks. "I take no credit…Anyone would have done the same eventually. Look at how many of us were unhappy…" I gesture to the comrades swimming on ahead of us. "No one will put up with suffering for long. I'm shocked this didn't happen sooner." Speaking outloud this often was strangely foreign, and almost unpleasant for me. The fact that I have been talking so much recently made me feel slightly uncomfortable. However, I have questions that need asking, and I would get over my predisposition for being mute in order to obtain answers.

"Even so, we couldn't have done it without you." Harmony brandished another grand smile, and it stretched all the way to her twinkling ruby-like eyes. She dove beneath me suddenly, the long trailing ribbons attached the large bow set into the middle of her back brushing me as she passed by. She resurfaced next to Melody, and casually took one of her hands. The two shared another set of secret looks before they spoke to me again. "So have you heard the news?" Harmony started, her tone implying a heavy dose of gossip was to come.

"Heard what?" I raised an eyebrow inquisitively, doing my best to reign in the sudden flare of curiosity her words had inspired.

"One of our own may be in love." Melody spun in a circle, briefly letting go of Harmony's hand only to have it in her grasp once more seconds later. The panels extending from her dress twirled around her as she did so, before settling back into place. I felt my face go dark as I tore the statement apart in my mind.

Falling in love is deemed practically taboo amongst our kind. And while there's no stopping it—or it's rather difficult to curb the events already in motion—the whole affair doesn't usually end well for either side. We feed upon humans, we don't fall in love with them. There are other creatures out there that we could possibly develop feelings for, but most rumours feature humans in their tales. I could feel Melody studying my face intensely, her pale blues searching her some insight into my reaction while betraying nothing of her own thoughts.

"Who is it?" Melody hesitated before answering, her face twisting in worry and concern, and for a split second I could have sworn that a look of protection crossed her face as well. She extended out one of her slender arms, a finger pointing to our most inobtrusive member, Carol.

Really? I scrutinize Carol but decide that at least superficially, nothing has changed about her. It is just a rumour after all. What if someone just read a little too deeply into her soft-spoken nature and assumed that her captivation for someone else was the reason for her silence? If that's the case, what do the others say about me? I rarely speak, how long until they suspect that I am smitten too? The notion makes me laugh, and I do so outloud without regret.

The whole affair was ludicrous. Even if there were truth the matter, I'm not going to stick my hands into someone else's private business. Harmony and Melody look at me with surprise as I chuckle, and in response I just shrug and smile at them. "That's out of my hands. She is free to do as she will." The two blink in mild astonishment but say nothing.

I give them both a slight wave and put on a burst of speed to propel myself ahead of the others. Once I reach the forefront I begin to sing. My newfound mirth has provided the fuel to adjust my internal composition back to Mezzo, and I feel my spirits lifting as the changes begin. "_My heart's a stereo/ It beats for you, so listen close/ Hear my thoughts in every no-o-o-te_…" I sing enthusiastically, if one of our own finds her sudden romance to be a positive thing then there is no reason for us to be dour about it.

I'm not going to sidle up her to and proclaim "Congratulations!" but I am not going to broadcast the announcement either. The whole thing was extremely unconfirmed but at this moment, I just wanted to express some mild happiness, and maybe the others will too. After all, we are free. We are liberated. "_Make me your radio/ And turn me up when you feel low_."

Aria proves to be most receptive and appears by my side, joining in the song as she does so. Her eyes are lit up by the moonlight, and the leaf-like bits in her bark-coloured eyes shine with joviality. "_This melody was meant for you/ Just sing along to my stereo_." Everyone else has joined in as well, our voices cheery even when surrounded by dark depths.

My mind returned to the way Melody has studied my face, and still images of the way Harmony and her acted when they were together played out in my mind. What was she looking for? What exactly is the nature of their relationship? They had thrown my entire plan off-course by bringing up Carol's possible situation and I had forgotten to ask my overly curious queries. Is it possible that these two…no….It's unheard of. Even I must have reservations about indulging such an idea. The uncertainty was enough to have my mind ask its new question over and over again to where it was beating so loudly and so rhythmically within my own head that it drowned out the very song I had started. The sounds of our chorus' delighted voices became washed out as I considered a most unique possibility.

Do Harmony and Melody…have romantically-inclined feelings for one another? A darker thought crept in and whispered tragedy over the unstoppable din. And if so, how will this end for them?

* * *

><p>Panic! At the Disco – Casual Affair<p>

Gym Class Heroes, ft. Adam Levine – Stereo Heart


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven Sirena

We stopped to rest amid a random rocky outcropping that stretched all the up to the surface. It was quite the unusual formation, especially given how far out into the ocean we were. There was no sign of shore in any direction, and yet this geological marvel stood. I felt no desire to induce a trance-like state, even though it probably would have done my cluttered mind some good. Instead, I broke the waterline and perched atop the highest rock throughout the night, gazing at the majesty that is the night sky. Humans miss out on such an expansive beauty night after night, because they have drowned out the sky with all of their lights.

Once the sun began to rise I lowered myself back into the water, still a few notches from being fully submerged but I had found a comfortable nook to nestle myself in as I watched the stars being eliminated one by one. Slight waves would wash over me every now and then, but I didn't mind. Being out of the water for extended periods of time affects our physiology, and I needed to make up for staying out all night.

One after another my fellows broke their respective meditations and joined me up on the rocks. Symphonia was the first to find me, the gold flecks in her robe-like dress reflecting the sun's refreshing light. We said nothing, merely exchanged nods as she found a place to sit. She then preoccupied herself with the practice of combing out her hair with delicate fingers and reparting it so that the majority of her locks fell heavily onto the left side.

Carol and Vivace arose from the water next but did not perch together. Vivace chose a spot that shielded her from the oncoming sun while Carol remained closed to the water's edge. And so it went. Accelerando was the last to arrive, mild confusion being replaced with a calm and steady look once she realized that we hadn't abandoned her. I was in no rush to leave this gift of nature anytime soon, and no one else raised any objections. We spent a significant portion of the day just lounging there, and as the others chatted or sang I remain submerged in my somewhat concealed space, fully focused on my own suppressed thoughts. Occasionally I would be roused by the odd splash or someone would direct a comment my way, and I would gesture or smile when needed, only to return to my own consuming mental world.

My thoughts were focused on nothing in particular, so I was left to deal with everything that had managed to take root in my mind. Throughout the night, I had allowed memories of being a part of the old chorus to direct the flow. How oblivious I had been to the carnage in the past. Or had it not always been that way? I looked for moments when their brutality first began to surface but found no true or credible source. Was it a rumour that inspired their consumption of human hearts? A flight of fantasy? Or some innate, possibly primal instinct that surfaced one day and would not back down until it was satiated with what it desired. If so, how I had managed to resist that same urge? Was this a battle a requirement, must we all face this trial?

Eventually, my mind had moved on from such disturbing ideations and on to more present events. Two days. We have been free from the violent ones for two days, and not even two whole days at that. And yet, the debacle feels like it is years or eons behind me. Now I am here presiding as the undisputed leader over a small, yet wonderful choir; this is a position I would never have foreseen coming into. While I don't intend to keep it for very long, I don't wish to cause strife within the group. Although, I don't really think any of us are power-hungry. If they were, they've done an exceptional job of keeping their tendencies hidden.

The liberty we have obtained, and how easily it was achieved feels surreal to me. Too good to be true. The notion is foolish of course, I can't spend the rest of my days suspecting that one of our "enemies" may suddenly appear to exact revenge. Besides why would they? It's not as if we wished to stop or inhibit their lifestyle in any way. We simply wanted to no longer be part of it. So what if we stopped them during one meal, there will always be more prey to hunt and in their case, kill. We aren't following them and demanding that they cease their practices, so why should they have reason to do the same to us? At the end of the day, death—while a rare event—is still a credible threat to all of us, and they no reason to try to inflict it upon their fellow kin.

With my thoughts finally caught up with real-time ongoings, I pulled out of the waking reverie I had subjected myself to. Staying still for so long had left me feeling sluggish, and I was grateful when someone made a suggestion, thus breaking the quiet chatter. "I could use a snack, how about anyone else?" Her upbeat tone was quite wonderful compared to my lethargy, and I too felt that a light meal would be appreciated. Her rose quartz eyes sought me out, and I nodded in agreement. Her smiled, and it was so bubbly that I found it contagious. Soon I was beaming at the prospect of an afternoon snack, I wasn't particularly hungry, but a top-off seemed to be in order.

Echoes of concurrence resonated from various places along the rock formation until everyone was aware that we would be moving soon. "Alright then," Vivace said briskly, rubbing her hands together in excitement. "Let us be off then!" She was practically brimming over with liveliness, and she was so raring to go that she dove off the rock she had been perched on without a backward glance. Her splash was followed by many more as we all followed her lead.

Still feeling a bit drowsy, Vivace slowed for me to catch up with her and together we lead the chorus. I was grateful she had inspired this hunt, perhaps I could turn a majority of control over to her? She was certainly energetic enough. But would that be enough to direct us? I shook my head at my own doubts. I was no leader, so why should I question the merit of another candidate? I motioned for Vivace to resume her position at the forefront, and allowed myself to fall back in line with everyone else.

The sky was heavy with the late afternoon sun, and the light heightened the clarity of the water. Everything was so vibrant, there were scarecly any shadows anywhere that's how great the sun's rays were. As one who is accustomed to hunting during twilight and nighttime hours, the absence of darkness made me feel overexposed and uneasy. I found myself sinking to lower depths as I swam instead of remaining close to the surface like the others. Anything to get away from those almost blinding rays. I caught a few curious glances here and there, as the others silently wondered if something was wrong but no one spoke. I was keeping pace and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Roughly an hour's swim had seemed to have taken us nowhere when suddenly Vivace halted and turned around to face us. Melody had just opened her mouth to most likely ask what was going on when Vivace suddenly darted off at full speed. We tore through the water after her. Our modest group leaving its own temporary current in its wake. It took a minute but soon I sensed what had made Vivace hustle. There was a human ship not far from our location. We had found our snack.

As we drew nearer our approach slowed, and we clustered together to discuss strategy. Vivace intially turned to me to formulate the attack plan but I shrugged and motioned for her to take charge. If others see how willing I am to forfeit my position as leader, maybe they will become more independent and rely on me less. I unintentionally tune out her little speech and gaze at the ship looming before us. It was massive, luxurious, and oozed power and money. This was no mere fishing schooner, or some friend's boat, or even a party barge. No… this was undoubtedly a pirate ship. It wasn't long until I was beginning to wonder if we shouldn't call this off and find another ship. Something about it's grandiosity made my internal music dim because of a most unfamiliar emotion rocketing about in my core. Terror.

I looked at the others one by one, and saw none of what I was feeling reflected in their faces. Each was attentively listening to Vivace's instrutions, as I should be. Had I made myself so paranoid with my thoughts of potential attack earlier that I was now afraid to hunt? Afraid to feed on my human targets? It was idiotic. This is part of who I am. If I can't feed I might as well sign myself over to wasting away. And what would the others think? How would I explain to them everytime we went on a hunt that "Oh sorry I'm just not feeling all that hungry today. No no, you go on ahead, I'll just wait here in the water far out of reach of any possible assailants…"?

Vivace pulled me from my inner dilemma, loudly asking if we were all ready. Affirmatives went off all around. On that note she sped off again towards the human ship; mere seconds after departing, she had her talons firmly hooked into wooden side. We caught up to her and I mimicked what the others were doing since I had no real clue what the plan of attack was. I hastily realized that we were splitting into two waves to ensure that we had the humans on deck properly flanked.

The others had already started climbing, singing some song I couldn't quite catch because of how far apart we were. Like most songs, I simply had to wait for the moment where the volume is appropriately increased. From there, I could easily bring myself up to speed and participate. I may not have been able to hear the song, but I certainly could hear the screams.

I hauled myself up the side of the ship, gouging chunks into the woodwork as I did so. Why were they screaming? What was happening up there? Glances to my left told me that neither Carol, Aria, nor Symphonia knew what was going on but they were scaling the massive vessel with as much speed as they could muster. Whatever was occuring, I had to protect my fellows.

All that stood before my answers and I was an overly elaborate railing. I'm sure I ripped a good portion of it off as I flung myself over it. Talons at the ready I assessed the chaos before me. The terror I had felt earlier detonated in my core. The brutal change to my composition from Mezzo to Staccato rocked me from the inside-out and left me feeling whiplashed and broken. However, this was no time to give in to inner suffering. I found the source of the screams. Vivace, and the other members of the first wave were fighting against large brutish humans who seemed intent upon capturing them. But to what end? Crescendo broke free of her captors with relative ease, her talons shredding the hands binding her while a swift kick incapacitated the second man. Before others nearby could grab her she ran for the railing and dove over the side. Vivace was too panicked to do anything but struggle and so I ran to her first.

"Free the others!" I shouted to my group, hoping that they had not allowed themselves to be ensnared like rest of our chorus. I tackled the man who had Vivace pinned beneath his arms. I clawed at his face mercilessly, forcing him to release her in favour of stanching the blood pouring from his scratched visage. "Run!" I screeched at her as I kicked the man's knees out from under him. She too, turned to flee. Not wishing to be caught twice, she swiftly evaded any pursuers and only stopped to grab a limping Symphonia's hand. Her dress was coated in blood, both human and hers and I realized then that the humans were no longer above using weaponry in their attempt to detain us. Instead of diving she allowed herself to be pulled over the side via gravity, her robe-like dress billowing in the sudden wind.

I heard the sound of three more splashes and I begged that they were from my allies and not unfortunate humans being tossed overboard. A rapid circular turn confirmed my hopes that they were escaping but also made me see that I was being flanked on all sides and the opponents were closing in fast. Extending my talons to their fullest I pounced the nearest human and used her as a springboard to further my flight. I was stopped short when a painful hand encircled my left ankle and forcibly slammed me to the deck. Wasting no time, I flipped onto my back and raked my talons into anything within reach. I dug them in, scoring his flesh and possibly severing tendons while doing so. He may never be able to use that arm again, or that hand at the very least.

The deck, now slick with blood made it that much harder to run across, but I used the momentum I built from my sliding footsteps to propel me forward and over the side. Relief washed over my system as I broke the water, I was safe. But was everyone else safe too?

I swam to where everyone was gathered, most were in a state of shock and I wanted to scream at them. Why are they still here? They should have made a break for it by now. As soon as they were underwater they should have fled. It was useless to question them so I took a headcount instead. One, two, three, four, five, six… seven. There were only seven of us instead of the proper eight. Who is missing? "Who is missing?!" I roared. A surge of bubbles exploding with my sounds manifests before me. I look furiously at who is present, trying to determine which one of us has failed to reappear. Harmony is floating with a most vacant look in her eyes. She has curled herself into the tightest ball possible, but that didn't stop her from shaking. Melody. They got Melody.

"No!" My rage forces me back towards the ship and then up its side, and I stand upon the railing looking for my taken comrade. I found her. Bound to the center mast with rope and some sort of flashy netting was my friend. Her dress had been ripped all over but I'm sure that's how they caught her. She had so many pieces capable of being grabbed onto. Even from my position I see the horror lighting her pale eyes and I could certainly taste it in the air. She was exuding so much distress it had become palpable. Especially given that her screams—the ones that can induce bleeding and at the very least temporary deafness in a person—were failing her.

This vital piece of information is what made me comprehend how everything had gone so terribly wrong. The reason why the song had failed to entice this ship's crew, and why Melody's vocal assaults were unsuccessful now was because the people trying to harm us had plugged their ears. They had intentionally made themselves deaf in order to evade our tricks. They had come prepared. This had been planned. They knew what we were. They knew.

Our strengths became our weaknesses. While I didn't have time to dig out the ear-guards each of them had fashioned, I did still retain certain tools at my disposal. I extended my talons once more, some of them sticky with human blood, and dove into the frey. I damaged any human who dared to approach me, and flung their wounded back in their face. I may have killed a few, but I no longer cared who I injured. Feeding to the point of killing my victim was against my moral code. Exacting vengeneace for this transgression and fighting my way through their bloodthirsty throng to save my comrade? Absolutely not against my morality. I will murder any human in cold blood if they attempt to stand in my way to Melody. They are the ones with the audacity to bring harm, they began this. And I am going to orchestrate its finale.

A pile of bleeding humans was left in my wake as I finally reached Melody. Her eyes were streaming with watery tears and blood, the two so similar in hue my eyes ceased to bother with separating them after a few milliseconds. "I can't break it!" She howls at me, her panic has escalated to unbelievable levels. I'm surprised she's able to speak at all.

"I'm going to get you out!" I yell at her. And I mean it. She will reunite with her beloved friend. I will see to it. I will not leave her here in the hands of these brutes with their malevolent agendas. I sink my talons in the strange netting and no sooner do my hands make contact than they alight with pain. I pull them back hissing at the agony. What is this, some sort of enchantment? How can mere rope cause us pain? …No wonder she hasn't been able to free herself.

Knowing I'm on limited time I grit against the pain and set to work once more. I refuse to abandon her. Seeing that I need every tool available to sever these blasted lines I sink my teeth into one of the sections as well. Pulling and ripping at the excruciating cords yet refusing to let the go. As I chew through one bit I taste something unusually familiar. The blood of our kind, yet it is not Melody's nor is it mine. The blood carries with it the faint feel of a lively and fast tune. The notes are demanding, ordering the direction of the song to be uptempo. This is Allegro's blood. They have tried this before.

Questions race through my mind as I wonder if our old chorus was able to escape the assault, or if the potentially captured Allegro met a fate as awful as her eating habits. There is no time to wonder at the origins of this discovery for I can audibly hear the links breaking and soon I will have a hole big enough to extract Melody through. I reach a hand in and rip her bindings with one strong slash, these were made of normal rope. My forearm burns with an undescribable hurt where it briefly brushes against the special netting.

She wastes no time climbing through the hole I've made and while clearly weakened by her time as a captive, she compels herself upright and breaks into a sprint. Talons at the ready I follow behind her ensuring that any humans who managed to take hold of her in her injured state instantaneously regret that decision. This ship is too big, big enough to feel endless as we fight for our freedom across its crimson decks. At last the railing is in sight, I feel nicked and beaten all over and my hands, arms, and mouth still ache from whatever terrible power their netting held. Freedom is at hand. Liberty will be ours once again.

Melody has just ascended the railing and is prepared to jump but she's waiting for me to catch up. Her hand is outstretched to grab mine and one of my own barely skims its tips against hers when the weight of the world slams down on my body. It is not a piece of the sky nor is it the entire world pinning me against the deck; merely, it is another one of their restrictive nets. The same that entrapped Melody. While I was not tied up first, I was still just as powerless to fight against the bindings. Being covered in the damnable thing was so much worse than just touching it with my hands. The pain was everywhere and everything. Movement only made it even more excruciating and yet I could not bring myself to stop thrashing about. An unpleasant ruckus filled the air around me and it took a few seconds before I grasped that the noises were in fact my own screams.

I concentrated enough to lock eyes with a paralyzed Melody. She was still standing atop the railing, her hands lay limply at her sides as she stared at me in abject horror. She made no moves to free me, neither did she turn to save herself. She was obviously caught at a crossroads. I will make the decision for her.

"Run! Save yourself, save the others! Get away from here! Go!" I shriek at her in our tongue, my chest heaving painfully as I do so. My exposed midsection ripples with agony, and I find that contact from the netting is decidedly worse against bare skin. She flinches at the sound of my voice, the agony beating so clearly in her ears despite my commands ordering her to leave me behind. She must do it for her own sake. I will not have the both of us taken as prisoners. I spend the last of my available breath whimpering slightly as I murmur to her. My voice barely audible against the chaotic noises of the background. The groans and whines of the injured many threatened to drown me out. "Melody… get away… everyone… take them away… I will find you…"

My eyes rolled away from her and I found myself staring at the reddened deck as I slowly suffocated. The world around me slowly muted, that last full sound I heard was a great splash as a large thing hit the water, followed by harsh shrieks and anguished cries. I could be content knowing that they had escaped. I didn't think our group was one to seek revenge, especially given how easily we were overpowered. Even at peak strength I don't think we would have been able to beat the humans' advantage. If I somehow managed to live through this, I swear to escape. I refuse to be remain a captive.

I was only fooling myself. There was no escape for me, save for the permanent one. I lacked the strength and willpower to keep my chest moving, the net was just too painful to struggle against anymore. Without the ever so vital oxygen filling my lungs I could feel myself shutting down. The most inky darkness was swallowing up my vision and I was glad. I didn't want to see this horror any longer. I was glad to be dying.

If only it were so simple.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I was expelled from the void my body had flung me into. It was a state similar to human sleep only without the restful feeling upon waking. I was neither conscious nor unconscious like in our "dream" state, but merely nonexistent. The darkness rejected me and I assessed that this was not a state of death, merely one of constant pain. Overall, I was alive. At the moment, I wasn't sure if I felt that this was a good thing.

There were three humans before me. Two adults and one small dark-haired child. A man and a woman, I assume they are the child's respective parents. The giveaway is the way the child is sleepily clinging to the woman's skirts. Both are decently youthful in appearance and both exude a menacing air of luxury, that might just be coming from the woman, though. Racking my memory for clues that might help me identify my location, I remember the intricate details on the railing and other woodwork on the ship that almost proved to be Melody's demise. This ship just may be my own grave if it is the same one as before. I take in as much of the world around me without drawing too much attention to myself as I can; I'm afraid whatever is binding me will make a noise if I move and so I am limited to what is visible before me.

The humans block a majority of my view on the right side, but I am able to see a very minimal section of wooden paneling; the colour and curvature on the engraving matches the same style present in my memory. It's expensive and ornate, and I swallow a feeling of satisfaction because I ruined some of it when I leaped over the railing tearing out chunks in haste to save my comrades. I hope that they are unable to track down the artist so that they can't get it repaired, and that no other human is able to mimic such grand work. High hopes yes, but it would be worth it. I can feel a flat surface below me as if I were laying atop a bed or a table. I would look, but I don't want to risk making a sound. Lifting my gaze upwards shows that my hands are bound above me. A cuff around each wrist, while the chain linking them together is either stuck on a peg or wrapped around a pole-like structure; either way this observation explains the uncomfortable position requiring my arms to be raised towards the wall behind my head.

Resonance is slowly returning to my body as if an invisible hand was painstakingly turning the volume on the world before me. I never really paid attention earlier to the fact that the two adults' mouths were moving but I heard none of what was coming out. This hadn't fazed me, and I immediately was filled with a delayed anxiety. Is it possible for my kind to go deaf? There had been no damage done to my ears, at least, I couldn't recall any. Seconds later it didn't matter for I was fine, my senses were returning to me including the ability to hear and from what I could tell I wasn't seriously injured.

The beginnings of a crude escape plan began to formulate in my mind, but my morality quickly shoots them down. It was obvious that these two humans were married, and not only that, they had a child together. I refused to hurt any of them, and while I tried to justify only temporarily charming them, without feeding, I couldn't. This wasn't like when we healed that bachelor and helped him find a way home to his fiance; this would only benefit me. My code was telling me that I would have to die before I could use my powers on them. Is this how I shall be done in? How foolish. Why couldn't I be like any of the others? Unafraid to use my abilities to get what I want in any situation; I wouldn't even have to kill them, just hold them in place long enough to escape.

An accidentally audible sigh snakes its way out from my windpipe, and my hands twitch causing the chains binding them to clink. I have just given myself away. One folly after another. All three humans turn to stare at me, the adults and their bickering has now halted. The little one rubs at one of his eyes with one hand and tugs on his mother's clothes with the other. "Mommy… who is she?"

"She is nothing, min elskling." Her voice is icy and on point, reflecting the natural accent creeping through. I would suspect her to have origins in the very cold northern countries. Distinctly Scandinavian yet not so distinct that I could identify the exact country. She is dressed regally in flowing colours that compliment her every curve and contour. She could easily pass for royalty for she is certainly beautiful enough, but instead of ruling over the north, she is out here claiming a domain in the warm south. Her hair falls like pale gold, straight and precise framing a face that is both naturally and artificially gorgeous. Even with her young age, there are signs present that show she is not above a little cosmetic work to maintain a younger appearance.

The most striking thing about her—and this woman is already very striking—is the fact that she had a faux hand. Extending from her right wrist is a hand made of solid gold, burnished to reflect every ray of light possible. The nails were made of the deepest, reddest rubies I've ever seen and they sparkled with her every movement. What was the history behind this pseudo-limb? What caused her to lose the real one? I would probably never know, I had already closed myself off from the only option that would allow mental access and without that, her memories and thoughts were forever off-limits. I tore my eyes away from the intriguing thing and made eye contact with her instead. She stared back, eyes hardened with apparent disgust. I broke first and turned to take in the man.

His fascination was obvious too, but it was not so much an interest stemming from lust, but rather one born from a more scientific approach. It was obvious I was of another species, and the infinite differences between us enthralled him. I swept my eyes along his body noting the subtle variances between him and his wife. Unlike her, he wore no extra rings save for a simple gold wedding band upon his left-hand ring finger and his hair was a long glossy black without any signs of age. Upon his face was a neatly cropped beard and mustache; I could detect movement beneath those shiny tresses. His eyes seemed to change colour every time I would drift back up to look into them; green to blue to purple to brown to black and back again. Like his wife, he too was dressed amazingly and within one hand was a cane with a jeweled snake curling its body around the length of the cane only to peep its head out from one of the eye sockets of the skull serving as the cane's topper. I would suspect that their ages were mid to late twenties at least, but most importantly, that they were pirates.

The child had his father's black hair, eyes, and a fair portion of his facial structure with a smattering of the mother's austerity thrown in for good measure. His eyes kept shutting on him, even as he tried so desperately to stay awake. It was obvious he wanted to be involved in whatever affair his grownup parents were handling but his little body was too tired to keep up. If I had to guess he would be about three years old, maybe just under that age but certainly not older.

Before I gave my awakened status away I understood that the two adults were arguing over what it was they were going to do with me. Their conversation didn't suggest that I would die or be sold off, leaning more towards them keeping me prisoner. Every object or possession must have its use and they were trying to determine mine.

It was obvious that the woman was fearful of my power and probably suspected that at the first chance I would manipulate her family out from under her. If I were any other member of my chorus or our previous group, there is a solid chance I would have if it meant retaking my freedom. Unfortunately, I am me, and I refuse to do anything that may jeopardize their obviously loving relationship. I couldn't pry into their minds, but their body language and the trace feelings I could detect were more than enough to prove themselves. Plus, there was the child.

Becoming her handmaiden was out of the question, her brimming jealousy would not permit me to serve her and that was fine with me. I doubt I could be of any use to the man and—wait a minute. I should not be seriously considering what sort of "job" I may perform for them! They have stolen me from my friends and from my home, I will rebuff any and all notions of coaxing myself voluntarily into servitude. Clearly their restrctive net had some sort of side effects for me to be thinking this way. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't even consider such propositions, so why was I now?

Choosing to not terminate my life would be their downfall once I made my escape. With the whole issue settled—thanks to a good mental slap followed by an equally rough mental shaking—I decided to ignore my captors and focus on wriggling out of these bonds. They had swapped the rope for metal chains, probably after witnessing the work my talons did on their crew and Melody's bindings. I twisted my face to stare at my hands and start to rotate them and test at what angles could I claw at the metal. If I could ascertain a weak point I could have these chains broken in no time. Ordinarily I would just break them off using my strength alone, but I could feel a lingering weakness in my limbs from the damnable net of before.

The silence is brief. I can feel their stares boring into my body; the sensation is akin to the way I dug my talons into their men's skin, or the way Allegro would sink her teeth into a particularly prime human heart. I'm wounded. That much is visible, and I'm not human. Of that they are already aware. Still, it doesn't mean I am any less a novelty to them.

Twice now I have called those humans that dared to harm us their "crew," and I've already made the assumption that they are pirates. But how do I know this? Why I have I made such a judgement call? Yes their ship is ornate, but how I do I know its their property? Why does luxury equal piracy in my eyes? They could be extremely wealthy merchants or lucrative business-people. They might not even be the owners, they could be guests to the true owner. And yet still I cannot shake the feeling that these people are pirates, this ship belongs to them, and that they have no intention of killing me or releasing me.

Knowing that their silence would be short-lived before they start talking about me once more, I completely focus on trying to stress the chains binding my hands so that I may break them and progress to the next part of my escape plan. Which is to escape. By-almost—any means necessary. I have practically fooled myself into thinking that I might have actually made progress when a male voice begins to laugh, I'm presuming at me and my efforts.

The sound is full and throaty, but lacks any maliciousness; so he's merely laughing at my actions but not necessarily at me. It takes a lot of effort to avoid looking at him and just continue my work despite knowing that his facial expressions and body language would help me decipher precisely why he's laughing at me. I don't have to wait long for him to do so, because once the chortles die down he tells me. That's the nice thing about humans, well nice isn't the appropriate word but, my patience is usually greater than theirs, and if there is something I want that I must wait for then chances are I have no trouble waiting to get it. Granted, I'm usually waiting for my prey to become food once a plan is set in motion…

The man plows on with talking despite the obvious fact that I am not going to avert my gaze from the task at hand. "It's good to see that you are up and about, even if your senses are clearly deluded. You are injured, even I can tell given how your kind has behaved before." His voice shifts from the obvious teasing to a more serious tone even though he tries to hold onto that playfulness rather unsuccessfully. "Now, what I'm failing to understand is why you haven't tried to charm us yet, or whatever it is your species does, in order to aid your escape?"

I ignore him, save for a slight eye roll that may or may not have been visible depending on if they were paying any attention to my eyes. Minutes pass and I continue to attempt to clink, rub, grind, and pull my way to freedom. I don't think I'm getting anywhere, but I'm not going to let them know that. After all, I'm foreign to them. They go back to discussing my fate, and I catch the names of various positions aboard their ship. I find it a bit odd that they plan on keeping me, rather than selling me to a high bidder, that's what I would expect any pirate to do. Perhaps they're into purveying and hoarding instead of just accumulating riches in the form of currency? At any rate, I'm sure they have their reasons for my capture.

When the man offers up that his wife could utilize me as a handmaiden, she immediately throws a tantrum, even going as far as to step closer to me as she gestures at me. "There is no way, nor is there any reason, that I will ever have that, that… _thing, _as my handmaiden. We will find a use for her, I refuse to have some freeloader aboard our ship." Her shriekings are clouded by her accent, but do nothing to take the edge off of it. The thought of being servant to such a piece of work uncontrollably makes him hiss, and when her hand nears my form I growl menancingly at her. I can't let them think that I pose no danger to them. They must remember the damage I caused their crew however long ago that was. But how long have I been "asleep" for?

I don't have any time to ponder internally for an answer because I am rudely slapped on the right cheek by the woman. I'm assuming she didn't like the fact that I threatened her. Well, I don't like having someone else's hands put on me when I don't want them to be. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do in retaliation except struggle against my bindings and snarl menacingly.

The blonde woman steps back to be alongside her husband once more, lest she gets the urge to strike me again. She looks irritated, meanwhile the man looks more amused than anything save for the undecipherable look resting in his eyes. He has yet to figure out my purpose. It's foolish, but I'm hoping that they'll realize since I don't have one that they might as well just let me go. I'm sure looking like a threat is the way to get what I want, that, or determination to break out will take care of things for me.

"Well, if we can't find anything for her to do my dear, perhaps we should just let her go?" the man's face clearly says he's joking but I'm letting my hopes get the best of me due to how badly I want him to be serious.

His wife looks like she was just told some very dreadful news. Her mouth cannot shake its frown as she dismisses her husband's suggestion. "After all the work it took to capture one of them? You want to just let her go? What a fine thing we shall tell the crew. Oh, our sincerest apologies about your injuries, I'm afraid they were for naught as we decided to let the creature go. Especially after the first one got away too. I'm surprised, nay, shocked that you even dare to-"

Her tirade is cut off when she notices that her small child has crept closer to me. Her motherly instincts must have demanded that she scoop him up out of my potential reach, but curiousity overtook not only her but her husband too as they watched him move towards me. I observe that the man has his hand on her elbow, but if that is all the restraint it takes to keep her from overreacting, then maybe they're putting a little too much faith in these handcuffs.

I go from studying the parents to staring at their son. What does he want of me? He's too young to probably even tell that I'm not human. Then again, children are innately very perceptive, so it's possible that he is already aware of how my existence differs from his.

He stretches one miniscule hand before him; when he is close enough he places it upon my cheek. His hand stays there, and he just absentmindedly looks at me now and again before seeming to stare off into space. What is he trying to accomplish? Whatever his purpose, it does not matter because I cannot do anything about it due to how bound I am to my code of ethics. All of these people in this room are able to prance about because my morals do not allow me to interfere with their emotions which by extension, means that their freedom is also untouchable. Funny how mine can be stripped away whenever they please though. I won't deny that the boy is cute for a human child. Eventually, the boy tires of petting me and turns to his parents to say, "I like her."

He trots back to his mother and clutches at her clothes, his head nodding as he begins to fall asleep where he stands. The man claps softly, so as to not disturb his sleeping son. He scoops him up gently, and half-whispers to his wife that, "The matter is settled. She shall be Moonshine's caretaker and personal servant. This saves us the trouble of having to go through the whole hiring process and those pesky background checks that take up so much time when ashore." He turns to leave, I'm assuming to carry their son—apparently called Moonshine—to his bed.

The woman begins to sputter and protest my assignment. Better her than me, at least she might be listened to. "You aren't seriously going to leave our son, our _heir, _in the hands of this thing do you?"

He stops halfway out of the room and asks her with his back still turned, "Would you rather she be your handmaiden?" His wife huffs and she leaves with her husband. She stops to look at me before completely disappearing to wherever, as if daring me to try and leave. I'm quite incapable of going anywhere… for now.

xXx

Time passes and I continue the struggle to free myself. I'm starting to really doubt my ability to break free given how weak that net left me. What was it made of? Who told them it could capture Sirens? These questions do nothing but hinder me, as I have no way of answering them as well as no way to reach other Sirens to warn them of the dangers that humans have now become. I can only hope my chorus will use my tale of captivity—and I pray it shall be a short one—to strengthen their warnings. Perhaps we should caution the other sentient creatures of the deep as well? Who knows what the humans might be planning…

Fear of harm brought to others slows any progress I could be making, but it doesn't matter because my futile clanking of these chains is interrupted by the return of my kidnappers. I give up on breaking my chains and look at them to figure out what they want. I'm surprised they've come back at all, it must be the middle of the night or early morning by now. It is hard to tell in a room without any windows.

The woman enters first, closely followed by her husband. I can sense that there are at least two other humans waiting just outside the doorway. I'm guessing my abductors are going to ask me questions before they have their people take me away to somewhere. I am going to pointlessly hope that the somewhere is overboard, but I doubt it. They stand side-by-side once they both are in the room; their positions exhibit a distinct lack of effort brought on my years of repeating this same formation in a variety of instances.

"We have some questions for you, and we intend to get answers." The man starts. In response I blink. I have nothing to say to them, for people who seem used to getting what they want, they're going to have to learn what it's like to be disappointed. "To start, what exactly are you?"

I blink again. My species is none of their concern. If they were so interested in my genetic makeup, maybe they should just kill and dissect me instead. I rattle the chains a little and he coughs sensing that I'm not going to say anything. His wife sighs angrily and crosses her arms, as if expecting her husband to either change his question or change his tune. Since he does not seem like a man that is quick to anger, unlike his wife, he decides to press his luck by trying another question. This must have been the one he really wanted to ask because he walks forward and even kneels so that he is right next to me before speaking again.

"I know that you're a being of legend, a Siren to be specific. I know that your kind are dangerous and that given the choice you would not only escape, but also return with your pack to wreak havoc and destruction upon my ship, my crew, and my family. This is why we cannot let you escape alive. That being said, keeping you onboard with us is also a threat to everyone here. Since we have no intentions of letting you go, I must ask… When my son approached you, why did you not use your powers on him? When your pack boarded our ship you did not hesitate to attack then, yet when we three were alone in a room together, you did nothing but ignore us. Why is that?"

I sigh. They are somewhat entitled to know why I have and have not done certain things. Refusing to entice the husband to free me so that I may feed on all of them before making my escape is something I don't really have a problem with answering.

"Unlike others of my kind, those who are more inclined to attack freely than I choose to, I abide by a moral code of ethics so to speak. I don't know why, I just do. My code does not allow me to kill, feed on, or charm persons that I know are in love with someone, married, are parents, or are a child themself. Granted, I never expected to be in this sort of predicament where I wish so furiously that I would allow myself to entice you, if only slightly so that I may escape, but alas I will not."

"Right," the woman has follows her husband and places her hands on his shoulders. The move seems almost possessive. Her words are cold due to disbelief and mistrust. "as if we are going to believe whatever this beast says." Her gold hand glitters in the moonlight, and I am briefly entranced by its luster.

"You have no choice but to believe me." I say firmly. I'm fairly certain that I know myself better than some wealthy human.

"And why is that?" he follows up, clearly paying close attention to my words. After all, his family's lives are at stake. He's trying to find out if I can be trusted.

The answer to that is yes and no. I can be trusted not to hurt this family unit. I cannot be trusted to not escape. "I could never live with myself knowing that I had broken one of the tenets that sets me apart from the members of my that kind solely for pleasure." We can feed without killing and we can feed without hurting our victims.

"I see." He nods and stands shaking off his wife's protective hands as he does so. Seemingly satisfied he shouts for his crewmembers lingering just outside the doorway. Two large men with bulky muscles enter the doorway and immediately look me over. An all too familiar expression enters their eyes, one that ordinarily meant I could start taking my pick of the potential prey. However, given these circumstances it is I who is now looked on as prey, and there is nothing I can do about it given my bindings.

"Bring her to the deck and place her in the prepared space. Change her handcuffs, and place one of the special nets over the area as well, be sure to have ear plugs in. And wrap a chain around her while you are at it." the woman commands sharply, pleased as the crew members begin to carry me off. I can feel the terror radiating off of me in quick waves.

"Oh and gents, if anyone touches her, I will let her consume you. And when she's done, I'll kill you myself." The man taps the end of his cane to his foot upon receiving fearful nods from his people.

I look over my shoulder towards him in gratitude as they carry me away, his eyes twinkling a light purple, and that is the last I see of him.

I am placed in a small corner of the ship by what is most likely the Captain's office. Or perhaps it's the galley, I do not know for certain. I've never been on ships long enough to become all that familiar with their layouts. When I was brought to the deck I was met with whistles and catcalls of all kinds by those still awake at this hour. Their crowing was brought to a swift end when the two men relayed the orders given to them by who I am assuming are the Captain and their Deputy. Once their job of tying me up more securely than before is done, the men go off and resume whatever their given duties are at this time.

I am left alone. I am too weak to try to long-distance charm anyone, not to mention they will most likely know better than to approach me without ear plugs in. I lack the strength to try and break all these barriers now. I am tired. I am hungry. And I have never been out of the ocean for this long. A painful, creeping sensation has settled atop my skin, worse than anything I have ever felt before. I can only hope that as time moves forward, so too will their hearts be moved so that I may be set free. That being said, I'm more inclined to believe that I am going to have claim freedom on my own; they are not just going to give it back to me.

The minutes come and go as they turn into hours. The slight trance I had slipped into in order to escape the wretched pain multiplying across my skin is broken by the sound of hollow mourning coming from the waters below. My chorus has found me. Have they been stalking the ship this whole time? Why do they not come aboard for me?

A quick look across the entirety of the deck reveals why I have been forsaken by my own. The crew lingering about are clearly on patrol for an incident such as this. They've been waiting for either retaliation or rescue, depending on the fate that their Captain has now determined. All of them move to the sides of the deck, hastily shoving plugs in their ear canals to block the notes vital to enticing humans. They anxiously scan the dark below, hoping to spot more of the things that they caught earlier.

I've no doubts that my people will refuse to surface. Instead, only bubbles carrying their voices of sorrow will make their way to the open air. "_Tam, za gorizontom dorog/ V mire beskrainih morei._" (_There, beyond the horizon of roads/ In a world of endless seas_). Despite the pain eating away at me I join in, if only to convey that I am still alive for now.

"_Gde-to est' ostrovok/ On manit svoei krasotoi/ Chto zovetsya mechtoi._" (Somewhere there is an island/ It attracts with its beauty/ Attracts only one). The crewmen closer to me turn at the sound of my voice reaching them through their protection. There is no seduction in my voice, no hint of charms or enticement, just a sad plea for the freedom that may never come and the accompanying voices are just mourning someone who might as well be dead.

"_I goryachee serdce v poryve strastei/ Rasprostilsya s toboi i uehal za nei._" (_What is called a dream/ And the warm heart of passion/ Say goodbye to you, and leave her behind_). What is normally an upbeat song is transformed by our grief, slowed and amplified to suit our growing distress. As they sing the words of goodbye their sounds become faint. Less and less are their musical bubbles making their way to the surface. They have accepted that I must be left behind. The awful task of finishing out what could be our final song together is my burden, I will conclude this piece of despondency alone.

"_Za nei uehal, i pust'/ Prosti i vsyo zabud'_." (_After it left it let her/ Forgive and forget everything_). The song is oddly fitting, as they always are. Thinking of the ironic implications only reminds me of Harmony and Melody, the two members of my choir who always bothered to consider such things. Melody… the one whose place I took as prisoner… I hold no ill will against her, in fact I'm glad to have saved her. I'm sure being separated from Harmony would have caused her pain greater than what I am currently experiencing. I can only hope that she and the others will make the best of their situation. At least I no longer have to be their leader.

In any other circumstance my grim joke would have been funny. However at this time, the thought only brings sadness and precious saltwater tears to my eyes. I wouldn't mind being their leader if it meant being reunited with my beloved ocean. As tears fall from my eyes, I slip into an almost trance. This one sustains my consciousness if only to sing strangled notes representing my loss. My thoughts turn to the watery home flowing only a few layers of wood beneath me; I imagine this is what dreams are like, empty wishes that shall not come true. Agonized cries fill the air around me. No notes or real chords. Just cries, screams, and lamentations.

And so ends my first night of captivity. May my spirits rise with the morning sun, lest they be crushed forevermore.

* * *

><p>Origa – Wasure na kusa  Wasurenagusa (Forget-me-not)

Also known as Forget-me-not, here are alternative lyrics to the ones used:

There, beyond the horizon of roads,

In a world of endless seas

Somewhere there is a ostovok

It attracts with its beauty

Attracts only one

What is called a dream

And a warm heart in a fit of passion

Goodbye to you, and left her

Behind her left and let -

Forgive and forget all

You just do not be jealous of his

He left you a goodbye kiss

Know that time will heal grief

Well, come back - come out of his Met

And warm heart will hear the love

He'll forget about it and will follow you

What's left, then let

Forgive and forget all

* * *

><p>AN: The ones used in this chapter were a result of Google doing a direct translation, followed by me adjusting them so that they made more sense. This song has been added to the Serenade of a Slave public playlist on Youtube: playlist?list=PLaUSgEwjCHUBGD80FE5ed5DqdLTiMvCtp


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Freedom did not come with the dawn of a new day, nor did it arrive by the time of the following next sunrise. Day after day I maintained my state of captivity; freedom never drew closer than the nearest railing on this wretched ship. That isn't to say that I didn't try to fight for it. I lost track of my many escape attempts and their nuances. Any time they would try to move me across the ship I found myself fighting to be free of my abductors' henchmen. Each attempt was met with failure, and as they grew wise to my tactics so I became weaker unable to follow through on the most simplest of motions without being caught.

It would seem my persistence for liberation has struck a nerve, for after the first day the Captain and his wife along with a small number of crewmen left for a nearby town to conduct business of some sort. I haven't the slightest clue what their secret meetings could be concerning, but it is fairly obvious that they involve me in some way. In the meantime, I was left in the care of their personal manservant, an older fellow by the name of Transom. He's far kinder than the other humans aboard this overpriced wreck, even going as far as to lock me in a small room not so that I couldn't escape, but so that the men could not get to me. It seems that their memories were hard-pressed to remember the Captain's threat of punishment on the day of my awakening.

Unfortunately though, he is not nice enough to let me go, I'm certain that he finds his employers far more terrifying than I could ever be—at least in my present state. The exhaustion that stems from the daily pain of being exposed to their horrid Siren-proof nets and my lack of exposure to the ocean waters is really beginning to take its toll. If I can barely tolerate the agony I am in now, how will I ever survive an extended period of imprisonment? Is it even possible for my kind to overcome these sorts of conditions? Perhaps whatever quest my detainers are on currently will bring me some salvation, even if it is just short of free will?

I stop to mentally berate myself following this question. I cannot believe that just after a few torturous days I am already hoping for a semblance of mercy from these brutish pirates. They view me as nothing more than an exotic treasure, not even as a fellow being of this earth worthy of respect and fairness. Then again… if any of my kind were in this position, wouldn't they too hope that the pain will be lessened at the very least since these people are refusing to outright kill me?

The loathsome twenty-four hours continue to occur at their same wearisome pace, and it is many days before the leaders of this ship return. The crew spontaneously bustle about at the first sighting of their row boat. I can hear their panicked footsteps above me as they run about the deck. I had been locked in the little room for some time now, with only a tiny window to keep me company and measure the passing time with. Although I had been bound both hand and foot in shackles, this was not a good enough prisoner's garb to be brought before the Captain in apparently. Transom unlocks the door, an almost flustered expression like he is in discomfort has crossed his wizened face as he allows three men to enter the room.

Despite my lack of attempts to charm anyone, they still insist on traveling with a person who already has their ears plugged up. They aren't taking any chances since that first night when my chorus said their gloomy farewells. I know they didn't understand what we were trying to accomplish, and I don't think they realize I'm far too weak to try to entice anyone on that level, especially not with those atrocious nets sapping away any strength I manage to muster. I need to feed, I know I do but it is just not possible at this moment even though this is probably the hungriest I have ever been in my life… that I can recall anyway.

The men wrap a chain around my upper body to limit mobility and reposition my hands so that they are cuffed and nestled into my lower back. Lastly, ropes are tied around me in order to lead me better into the position that they want above deck. I have been partially dragged and mostly carried to the deck where my "masters" should be arriving at very soon.

While they were away, my natural clothing has deteriorated as my body tries to conserve its resources causing me to look even more scandalous than I usually intend to. There are holes and tears all throughout my garments; the already revealing skirt is made shorter, and my own hair does a better job of covering up my chest than my pale blue top does. What was once practical when I was above humans on the food chain now leaves me looking like nothing more than a particularly scrumptious cut of meat to those admitting to be carnivores.

I am brought to the center of the ship, a man on each side, and one behind me with a sword already drawn in case I decide to start attacking anyone. Someone begins shouting that the Captain is once more aboard the ship, and suddenly I'm blinded by the glitz and glamour that surrounds Captain Barbarro Wrathe and his wife Trofie. During my period of isolation, Transom would stop in on occasion and it is through him that I learned the names and professions of my captors. Just as I had suspected, everyone on this ship is a pirate, even little Moonshine. As a matter of fact, they refer to him as "the Pirate Prince" given for allegedly how notoriously wealthy his parents are and also due to the legacy that follows the Wrathe name. I don't know how much credence I can place in pirate legends, I don't usually tend to stick around and chat much with my victims regardless of if they are pirates or not.

That being said this couple is powerful and capable of great cruelty, as I am already aware. So what is next? Are they going to remove any of my limbs in a futile attempt to control me? I'm sure that if I fed enough I could regenerate any body parts they removed. That's if I am ever able to feed again…

My morbid thoughts are interrupted by the Captain's voice. "I see you are still alive and with us… Good."

"It would be such a shame for you to leave now, after all the trouble we just went through to get you a gift. Isn't that right, min eskling?" Trofie says following her husband's lead.

I'm fairly certain that I won't be liking this gift of theirs, whatever it is. Barbarro clicks his cane against the heel of his boot and the men on my left and right each put a hand on my shoulders and roughly force me to my knees. The man behind me slips a hand around my throat, lingering just a little too long as he sneaks in a quick feel of the skin before jerking my chin up so that my entire neck is exposed and I am forced to look up awkwardly at the Captain and his Deputy. There is a man standing by them, a shrewd rat-like human who keeps glancing at them nervously as if he is waiting to be punished for something he has done wrong. He's going to have to wait in line because part of my mind suspects that they might be preparing to cut my head off and store it in special preservatives so that I can be forced to sing for them forever. That's all I'm really good for, right?

"Alright Mr. Walker, let's see if your invention is worth its price." The Captain clicks his cane again and the man nervously scurries forward, his mustache twitching far too much to dissuade the animalistic image I have paired him with. He carries in his hands a circular package wrapped in loose cloth. Perhaps a beheading is not in store for me after all?

He begins to mutter strangely to himself with an accent suggesting that he is not native to this area, but from where I cannot place. "So this is the creature? Hmm… fascinating." Unable to resist he reaches a shaking hand forward and strokes a lock of my hair, He drops it in favour of running his fingers downward along the front of my neck, creeping closer and closer to the cleavage below without any sort of purpose as far as I can tell. I growl slightly, unappreciative of all of the unwelcome groping that has been occurring today. "Er," he coughs a bit before getting on with his business. "I will need the hair moved out of the way in order to proceed"

The man behind me who had been holding onto my neck and chin now lets go of his purchase in favor of gripping much of my hair in a tight fistful. The pull on my scalp causes me to automatically raise myself slightly lest I end up with clumps of hair completely ripped out. Walker's restless hands reduce his movements to little more than awkward flutters as he attempts to unwrap his package.

His slowness is not cherished. "Come, come now Mr. Walker, we have schedules to abide by. Is there something wrong with the device? Are you aware of what shall happen if this contraption is not in working order?" Trofie's voice is like icicles compared to balminess of the approaching evening. For a brief second I am grateful that I am not Mr. Walker, and then I remember I'm on the wrong side of whatever this "present" is.

At last the wrappings are pulled off of the object and the mechanical thing is revealed. It's a combination of metals, some light and some dark, coupled with two thin horizontal stripes of a neon blue color, one on each side of a blue dot in the center. I'm not sure what to make of it, but if I had to guess I think it's some sort of necklace or collar. The fact that my neck seems to be the primary attraction at the moment is what's pushing my appraisal in that particular direction. Walker fishes a cylindrical pin out his pocket—a key—and slides the little thing into the side of the collar facing his body. Whirring sounds are heard as the device unlocks itself, drawing back whatever springs and circuits that are programmed to move into place when the circle is closed.

He stretches the collar open, turns it, and slowly advances towards my throat with it. I flinch hard, so hard that I bump into the man behind me so he prods me back forward with his sword's hilt. I close my eyes tightly, fearful of what shall happen when the collar is locked once more. There are clicks that go off and the same whirring noises occur from before. The device tightens slightly around my throat, not uncomfortably so, but its weight is now noticeable. And then…

…there is nothing.

I open my eyes cautiously; there's no pain or any sort of sensation coming from the collar save for its presence and weight around my throat. Walker backs away like only someone brimming over with shattered nerves can, and the men holding my shoulders and hair all release me. I look around as I stand, taking in all of their facial expressions as if the answer to this mystery contraption could be found there. I failed to find any.

Barbarro barks suddenly in laughter, a joyous sound as if he is delighted by something. Trofie looks at her husband curiously but smiles anyway, sharing his private joke. "Now for a field test! Release her!" He shouts and the nearby crew react immediately.

What is he doing? The ropes are cut, the chains removed along with the handcuffs. Reflexively I rub my sore wrists and take a moment to run a finger against the collar now affixed to my throat. I begin to back up slowly and the crew even retreat from my area. What does he mean by field test? What is this thing? A tracking device? It has to be a tracking device, what else could it be?

I continue backing up until I feel the solid wooden railing behind me. An electric hope blitzes through me like I've been struck by lightning as I realize this is it, this is my freedom. Oddly procured I will admit, but it is here and staring me in the face nonetheless. Such fools! I will be rid of this human machine once I have gained enough strength to rip it apart. You shan't ever find me again!

The Captain and his wife begin to walk towards me, as if they're egging me on, baiting me to jump overboard. Watch me.

Barbarro grins devilishly, his eyes a gleeful amber as I climb over the side and dive into the water.

Before I have a chance to rejoice at having regained my freedom an absolute agony, the worst I have ever felt begins to overtake my body. Coursing in time with my rapidly beating heart, the pain travels down my neck into my chest and spreads to my limbs. I can feel the life within me leaving, and the feeling is hastened by the fact that I now lack the strength to even breathe. My life's major source of sustenance and energy has me completely enveloped and I am totally unable to take it because of whatever is hurting me.

_The collar. _It must be the collar!

My fingers scrabble uselessly at the device, losing their power as the seconds tick by. The pain is so awful that I am unable to transform into my true image; my fingers have not developed the usual webbing that comes with being in the water thus inhibiting my ability to swim in these depths. If I don't reach the surface I will surely drown. Is death in these waters better than imprisonment above them? My legs seem to have made the choice for me as all my remaining life-force is concentrated in those two limbs. Arms floating limply at my sides I push for the surface, suffocating as I sluggishly rise.

The last of my strength fades when I break the surface. I float long enough to take in much-needed breaths, but they are too shallow to be of any use. The pain has entirely overtaken me, and I am fading. I am going to die.

Arms encircle and haul me upwards until I am no longer in the ocean. I am numb but aware, the torture has yet to end, but it is diminishing. What was that? What happened to me?

I'm thrown none too gently back over the railing and I just lay there, pooling water on the wood beneath me. Being wet does nothing to reduce the sensations of hurt, and I shudder in time with each wave passing through me. Someone lifts my head and carefully daubs away at the moisture surrounding the collar, both on the outside and on the side touching my neck. As soon as they finish the pain withdraws almost instantaneously. Is that the secret behind my suffering? This device reacts when exposed to water?

I take back what I said before about these humans being foolish and cruel. They are neither of those things, instead they are monsters. Far worse than anything I have ever encountered. With a single piece of their technology, they have ensured that I shall never reenter my beloved water world ever again.

More hands grab me, each pair taking a piece of me until I am lifted into the air and carried off. They place me in the room I was in the first time I regained consciousness; only, this time they have forgone the handcuffs completely.

I am no longer a threat. I am no longer a danger. I am now a mere object. A tool. A slave. They have stripped me of all my remaining nourishment and it is here, on this human vessel, with this human device around my neck, that I shall die.

The horrors of before have ruined me. I shan't stay awake for much longer. Before I slip off into the sanctuary that is a Siren's trance a thought occurs. It is not uncommon for these thoughts to make their appearance in the form of a song, and so has this one.

"_My will to quickly end it all/ Set front row in my need to fall …_" How will I escape? How will I end this torment? The answer lies with the source of my pain. Salvation could be at hand if I choose it.

Suicide. Liberation. Death.

"_Into the ocean, end it all/ Into the ocean, end it all… goodbye…_"

* * *

><p>Blue October – Into the Ocean<p> 


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

I wake. Upon my return to consciousness I make a decision. I will not allow myself to die in the water, unable to breathe or transform. Instead, I shall bide my time and wait until I can escape. Suicide is not an option I wish to pursue, I've learned that now. So it is with a rather heavy heart that I take to looking after little Moonshine.

Luckily for me, this does not seem to require much aside from watching him stumble around the ship with his young, unsure feet. His parents don't seem to interact with him that often outside of mealtimes or whenever the mother spontaneously decides that the family needs to spend time together. I could be wrong, I haven't exactly been abducted for much longer than a week. Will I even bother to keep track of the days? I can scarcely recall them due to the sheer amount of hurt I've been experiencing and when that is paired with how I keep slipping into trances to avoid said agony, it becomes very hard to even want to remember each passing day.

I look on at the child running about the ship's deck excitedly, bobbing in between crew members as he plays some game only he understands. He is three years old. Will his birthdays serve as my timekeeper? As he grows so does my time spent in captivity… can I even hope that it will be a short period anymore? This infernal contraption bound to my neck has me considering that I'm in for quite the extended stay here on this horrendously luxurious ship. Luxurious in ways only the pirates can enjoy…

How long can I survive out of the water? Without feeding? Already, my skin has begun to dim, less and less will there be a visible glimmer. While it might take the humans months, perhaps even years to notice, my eyes can tell. The changes are so awfully detectible to me. I've got to get out of here. Doing so requires this collar to be removed. I must learn more about it, find out what waters it does and does not react to, and how it knows I am in said waters. The scrawny little engineer is long gone now so I cannot possibly ask him. And I imagine the key is used to unlock it is now in the possession of one of the married Wrathes. Neither of whom I can charm into giving it to me.

What of their butler Transom? I wonder… his convenient walk into my line of sight permits consideration in my quest to learn all there is to know about this torturous device. Who's to say he even knows anything about the collar? Just because he and the crew were in on the plans to collar me does not mean that he understands the technology composing it. I am still too weak to try and entice anyone despite my gnawing hunger even though I could solve two problems in one go by feeding on him. However, if I were to pursue that course of action, I honestly think that I would never be trusted upon this ship—meaning that I cannot exploit that trust—and no one would ever approach me without protection. Worst of all, they might even kill me for "harming" their beloved butler. That's only if I was unable to escape after acquiring knowledge from him. What if he knows nothing? Then abusing the kindness he has shown me will be for naught.

My inner turmoil has now come full circle. I suppose the best thing I can do is to conduct some "experiments" in order to test the abilities and determine the purpose behind the malicious thing denying me my freedom. I must learn all I can so that I may pass on the information to my kinfolk once I have escaped. Any tests must wait until Moonshine has gone to bed and it will be easier to maintain the secrecy needed for this project since the adults will most likely retire to their chambers.

The sun advances across the sky in its typical slow-paced dance and life on the deck moves in a hazy blur. I shouldn't be able to retreat from reality this easily, I should not be so willing to withdraw from the world as frequently as I have been doing but it's either this or stare emptily into space whilst feeling every degree of pain that my body emits. My existence is sad, pitiful even, but there is nothing I can do about it… for now.

At last, evening arrives and an exhausted little one finally goes off to bed. The crew members change over; the nightly patrol comes above deck while the daytime workers go to spend their final hours doing whatever it is pirates enjoy as recreation prior to sleeping. After double-checking to make sure no one is paying too much attention to me, I set off to retrieve the items I shall need for my test: two buckets, one filled with fresh water and the other with water from the ocean. I shall also need a cloth, but I am unwilling to ask someone to give me one. Instead, I'll just use the shirt I've been forced into wearing.

Trofie, Moonshine's glamorous mother, decided that my natural clothing is too much of a distraction and not ladylike enough for me to be around her son. She then provided me with several armloads of hand-me-downs of very high quality and in good condition. I couldn't figure out why she would show me such kindness but then I realized this isn't her being kind. The way she looked at the articles and sneered tells me that these garments are disposable since they are now out date or no longer fashionable. They are worthless to her, which is why I am worthy of wearing them. I don't care much for fashion so I don't mind one way or another. Since I lack the strength to expend on less revealing natural wear, I'll make do with the human ones. I will say that these things are very frustrating to wear though. Why must there be so many layers? Who decided that a female cannot just wear a shirt, but must also wear a corset over it too? I will only wear enough to be humanly presentable and nothing more.

I find the materials I need save for the seawater, which requires me to get a rope so that I can hoist the bucket back up onto the ship as I have no intention of climbing down to the water's edge. Knowing my luck, I would either fall in and experience immense pain, or someone would think I was trying to escape and would probably toss one of their Siren-proof nets to recapture me. After being netted I would _then _fall into the water where the pain will be escalated ten-fold and where I will surely die.

Well, if I'm going to get anywhere without dying and without being accused of escape I need to start looking for some rope. I start walking around the deck, trying to act inconspicuous and I almost made it a decent distance before I was approached.

"Looking for something Miss?" a gentle voice from behind me asks. I turn around to find none other than the power couple's butler, Transom, speaking to me.

"Oh um, I was looking for some rope," I admit nervously. Maybe he will supply me with what I need and won't ask many questions in return?

"For what purpose?" he inquires somewhat suspiciously, an eyebrow raised on his mildly aged face. Life on a pirate ship must be very stressful for the staff.

I had not let go of the bucket I needed to fill with sea water and I brandished it while I spoke. "I'd like to fill this with seawater but I cannot find a rope to tie it off with and I would rather not risk falling into the ocean." I tap the collar for emphasis.

"Is that all?"

"Um yes?" I'm nervous and more than a little confused. Does he think I'm dishonest? Or is he concerned about my intentions? There's very little I can do when armed with two buckets of water, aside from get someone decently wet.

"Right this way Miss er… I did not catch your name?" he begins walking and I trot after him. Various men on deck stop to look at him and then me; probably checking to see if he is under my control and that I'm not leading him to his doom.

"Your masters call me 'Sirena.'" I say quietly, thinking back to the hours before when I was named.

Little Moonshine had be running about, as is his chief predisposition when he had stopped abruptly and began to stare at me. Apparently, he had wanted to get my attention since I was not paying any mind but he did not know what to call me. Instead of asking me, he turned to his father for the answer. The older Wrathe looked at me, eyes a deep velvet purple and his brow furrowed with concentration. Even if I told him either of my names, he wouldn't be able to pronounce them, for only Sirens can speak one another's true names in Sirenic. Furthermore, neither of them fit me now. Siren names are very much tied to our emotional state; I do not feel pleasantly content or in the happy medium when it comes to my emotions as Mezzo would call for, and while I do certainly feel detached and separated from a great deal of things like Staccato suggests, it doesn't sit right.

My bewilderment at this state of being unnamed is kept internal, humans couldn't possibly understand. Barbarro didn't even bother to ask. Instead, he christened me. A simplistic, made up name for my made up lifestyle. "Her name is… Sirena." Pronounced as Serena by some, and Siren-uh by others. To little Moonshine, I was "Rena" for short. His clumsy mouth couldn't handle all the vowels and consonants, so being a child of his age he solved the issue by shortening it. I will say the name is cute, it matches the youngling from which it came. I won't accept this new name as my own, but I will respond to it on occasion if only to keep the small one from becoming too frustrated.

"Well then, Miss Sirena," he says with a wave, "we shall see that you have your rope, provided you don't plan on harming yourself with it?"

So that's what he was concerned about. "I hadn't even thought about it." That is the truth. If I refuse to die in the water then I'm certainly not going to die _above _it.

"Then pray tell, what do you plan on doing with the water after you have acquired it?" now he is just being nosy. Most likely to report back to his masters.

"I thought I would take a bath." If I felt like being funny, that would have been a great joke. The only problem is, I lack a sense of humor. Blame being Staccato all my life or blame the fact that I am prisoner to a bunch of pirates; either or.

"In saltwater? Well, to each his or her own I suppose…" Transom seems concerned but that doesn't stop him from leading me to a coil of rope. He pulls a knife from within his coat and slices off a fair portion for me. After gathering it together he hands it off, I thank him for his assistance and turn to leave.

"Good luck with your testing Miss Sirena…" he calls out to me once I have left his vicinity. How did he know I was going to conduct experiments? It's probably not that hard to piece together. Two buckets, two types of water…

He must have been watching me, even before I was conscious of the idea that someone could be spying upon me. In the future, I must be more aware of potential prying eyes. I make my way back to the deck where my first bucket lays in waiting, the place is more deserted than before. All for the best I suppose, if I am to willingly inflict agony upon myself, I might as well do it where there are less witnesses.

Once I've gathered some saltwater I decide to tear a piece of my skirt off rather than use part of my shirt. Since there could be a number of unseen people eyeing me I would rather not add to their enjoyment of my spectacle.

I start with the fresh water. Cautiously, I dip my smallest finger into the bucket. Upon there being no sensation besides that of a finger becoming wet I proceed by adding my whole hand in. Next, I scoop a handful of water of and pour it out on my bare arm after rolling up my sleeves. Still nothing. The same results happened when I poured fresh water onto my left leg. Okay, so there's nothing when it's my limbs, but what about when my neck gets wet? I might as well go all in. Lifting the bucket with shaking hands I upend it and let its contents rush over me. I had closed my eyes tightly in anticipation of the pain from before and yet not came. I had succeeded in getting wet and slightly rehydrating my skin. Some of the hurt from being out of the water dissipated but only marginally. The real source of life for us comes from the ocean's waters, not the kind that humans need to drink to survive.

The first part of my trials now over, I reach for the second bucket with mildly trembling hands. I could not survive on human bath water alone. I might be able to prolong death if I can derive some morsel from saltwater, but it would have to be on a daily basis. We shall see if my abductors are kind enough to afford me such a luxury; that's even if I'm able to touch the stuff.

Like only minutes before, I bring the tip of the smallest finger of my other hand to the surface of the water hoping to minimalize the potential hurt. There is something. A very small, miniscule something, but a sensation exists. It is not one of agony though, but joy. I can feel the currents from whence these droplets came, imagine the clouds that borne them, delight in the insight of freefalling from the heavens to the ocean's surface below. Without stopping to think I plunge as much of my arm as I can into the bucket with hopes of exploiting the wonderful feeling of my strength being renewed. I lose track of how long I remained that position, kneeling with my arms in this small vessel of ambrosia—at some point I had brought the other one into the mix. It isn't until I sense that bucket has gone dry, that is to say, the water is now stale, do I toss what remains back into the sea and trawl for fresher contents.

I cannot describe what it is we Sirens absorb through exposure to seawater, only that our very physiology depends on it. To know that I could touch the water again, place my limbs in it, and not be tortured for it is unexplainably fantastic. So what does the collar react to then? After testing my legs—I had to obtain another two buckets worth of water because I poured so much out onto both of them—and savoring each drop that touched my skin I felt rejuvenated enough to make withstanding pain for a few seconds possible.

Two fingers now wetted with ocean water, I run them along the outside of the collar. There was no effect. After rewetting them, I slipped them to the inside space between the collar and my skin. At last, there was brutal feeling, even if it was just uncomfortable tingling in that particular spot where the water had gone. It was minute compared to what I had felt after diving overboard. The sensation dissipated rapidly, and never rose above the feeling of discomfort. Is this because the interior is only partially exposed to this particular water? What if I were to completely submerge it for a few seconds?

Being already in slight pain makes increasing the severity seem easier—I was lying to myself—and I dump the entire bucket on myself like before. In a more brief but just as eerie happenstance similar to yesterday's, the torture exploded through my body after the collar became submerged in the water, albeit far more slowly. Reacting quickly, I reached for the dry strip of skirt cloth I had kept out of the water's reach and dry the collar's interior, exterior, and my neck as best as I can. The pain that will not fail to encompass all dwindles away and I am now coherent enough to reflect on what just happened.

I did not even get to enjoy the revitalizing my hair should have experienced like the rest of my skin did, in fact, there wasn't any sort of transformation at all. When I placed my hands in the buckets earlier, they took on the normal look of Siren hands when in water. There was no slowness or stopping to this transformation, the little webbing between each finger developed without a hitch.

Yet when I exposed the collar to absolute wetness brought on by ocean water it manages to stop any and all transformations completely via flooding my body with horrible pain. But when there is very little saltwater exposure it tingles and then stops. How is this possible? This device must be able to detect the difference between a few drops of ocean water, such as the result of ocean spray in high winds versus overwhelming volumes of the liquid, which would typically occur when I am in the water. By preventing my ability to transform or think rationally, I lose my means of escape. If I insist on swimming in the ocean water the device will eventually rob me of all strength. These factors all lead to one result: my death.

I cannot swim properly without being fully submerged. I cannot escape if this collar is still in place. I cannot break this device at my current level of strength. The key to unlock it is out of my reach. My chances for escape have been drastically reduced while this atrocity is still wrapped around my neck.

In the future, I can see if I can get away with waterproofing the collar in order to prevent it from doing its evil work. While I am at it, I should try to discover what it is that is affecting me so and how it managed to get inside my body. Sirens don't have blood in the same sense that humans do that much is for sure, so if it's a toxin or poison what is it impacting? How does the human rat know how to engineer such technology?

So many questions, so many revelations.

The most important question of all dawns on me as I stack the buckets in a corner of the deck by a staircase. My clothes drip water wherever I walk so I choose to remain on deck as they dry out with the ocean breeze—I don't think Trofie would like it if I were to drip saltwater all over her expensive rugs.

How long can I survive with this monster binding me to the surface?


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

I am hungry.

I am starving.

I am ravenous.

Each hour that passes without sustenance or gratification increases the craving to hunt and to feed by another notch. It has been well over two weeks since my capture and I have not fed a single time since that fateful day. There is no way I can obtain prey, my kidnappers will not allow me to feed on their own people, nor will they venture pulling in to a port just so I can become satiated. The only reprieve that briefly saves me from the hunger pangs is when Moonshine has slipped off to bed and I am free to acquire water from the ocean.

At first, Trofie tried to deny my right to pour bucket after bucket of water onto myself, but I fought her, arguing that a wet deck is better than having half her crew enthralled since they won't allow me to obtain victims. She consented but I'm fairly certain that the battle has caused security to increase marginally and everyone who relaxed their guard has firmly put it back in place. I won't be turning any of them into victims any time soon.

The water doesn't reduce the craving to hunt or make me any less hungry, but it does provide me with some renewed strength to help get through the next day. That being said, daily "bathing" sessions can't stop all of the consequences that come with being denied the ability to live a Siren's lifestyle. My skin is losing its luster and is slowly, oh so slowly developing a more human look to it instead due to my constant exposure to the sun. Sirens spend more time in water than out of it, so of course leaving it completely is bound to have some effects.

My hair, which is a medley of green shades flowing downward in a gradient and ending near my waist, is losing its color. The hues range from dark to light, with he blackness covering my roots normally only very close to my scalp but that section has now grown a minute amount. Again, only I can see the change but I'm worried about what shall happen if the black were to reach the ends of my hair. The more area the black part covers, the more of the beautiful verdant shades shall will be pushed out, beginning with the palest end which contains mint or celadon-like hues.

This cause of concern only accentuates my desire to feed on anyone, save for those protected my by code. This morality of mine will be the death of me I know it. Well, that or this ghastly collar will be. I have remained quiet the last few days while in the proximity of others that could potentially be victims; I fear that if I were to open my mouth I could not stop myself from seducing anyone who may be around. I would not stop there though, no, I would move from person to person, until the entirety of the ship has been consumed by my hunger. On the bright side, they would all survive the attack. On the less bright side—that doesn't even concern me—the Wrathes would be lacking in crewmembers stable enough to run their ship for a few days.

I have to stop thinking about this. Thoughts of feeding only make my mouth water and my chest aches with the need to sing, to charm, to seduce, _to feed._

The only person I have spoken to is the small child I am forced to look after and even then it hasn't been much. The most he has asked me of me is to read him bedtime stories at night. I don't feel that he is in any danger because he is just a wee youngling, a person I could never hurt no matter how hungry I became. It feels weird being required to speak so much and in a human language at that. Singing is one thing—which I have not being do much of, for fear that they may see it as an attack—but speaking has never been a pastime that I particularly enjoy. Yet the humans, they talk _so _much. It's all they do, even little Moonshine has quite the excited tongue when he wants to.

Tonight was different though, instead of reading him a story, his mother sent for him. Apparently, they have some family affair to attend to. Poor child, I feel as if I see and interact with him more than his parents do. I'm sure it will only get worse as he grows older and has to start learning the skills necessary for survival in the materialistic world so beloved by humans. Instead of teaching him things themselves they will hire private tutors to do it for them. Oh well. Since I am without my charge I took to the deck, where I could gaze freely at the waters below or the sky above without any interruptions.

The sky overheard is corrupted by dark and heavy clouds, the spaces in between these pregnant giants is littered with a gorgeous arrangement of stars. There's a promise of rain in the air and I'm praying that it won't be a mere sprinkle but a full-blown drizzle. Give me a storm. One of high waters and dangerous oscillating seas. Drench me in your medley of liquids and envelop me in the electric currents.

My prayers unconsciously become vocal as I urged the sky to grant my wish for watery weather. A cursory glance around me tells me that I am alone, tonight is one of those nights where the crew gathers together for drinking and camaraderie before retiring to bed, and those that are left are busy with the helm. The Wrathe family is busy associating together and should be for a while if Trofie's mood is maintained.

My song is a blend of both cries and sounds in my native tongue and a human song. The notes being conjured on the fly vary from imitating the sudden cavalcade that is thunder, to the drone-like pattering of raindrops on water, followed by the fleeting echoes of the whistling winds. Woven into this personal composition are the human lyrics, another song taught to me by our Northern brethren. "_Cá fhad é ó/ Cá fhad é ó_..." (_How far is it from/ How far is it from?_)

I introduce a tilting scale to mimic the undulations of an ocean caught in relations with the provocative winds, as my cadenza grows in strength so too do the clouds above me, or at least I'm inclined to think so. It's a lot better than reminiscing about the Siren of the same namesake. "_Siúl tríd na stoirmeacha/ Dul tríd na stoirmeacha" (Walk through the storms/ Go through the storms)_

My body, much like my voice, has developed a mind of its own as I begin dancing across the deck. "_Cá fhad é ó, an tús don stoirm?/ Cá fhad é ó, an tús go deireadh_?" (_How far is it from the start of the storm?/ How far is it from the beginning to the end_?) First spinning to one side, then gliding to the other with my arms traveling through the air every which way as if I'm daring the waves to rock the boat in time to my performance. "_Tóg do chroí!/ Siúl tríd na stoirmeacha/ Tóg do chroísa!/ Dul tríd na stoirmeacha_." (_Take heart!/ Walk through the storms/ Take heart, going through the storms_!)

Perhaps it is just my imagination and my senses running away with said imagination, but I feel as if the sky really is giving into its darker inhabitants and that the wind is picking up, thus propelling the clouds to swirl and intermix to form even larger ones. The sensation of rain pinpricking my skin with its indifferent coldness is almost upon me when the spell I've woven is broken by the feeling of small hands tugging on my skirt. I don't know how he has even managed to grab me what with my ridiculous dancing and all.

I drop my arms limply to my sides and look down upon little Moonshine with the blankness I've been maintaining on my face for the past few days. Tight-lipped and tight-faced, gone is the grin I bore moments ago, now there is only empty impassivity. The inky clouds carry on their journey of floating on towards wherever, if they mean to release rain anytime soon, it won't be here.

The boy continues to tug on my skirt until he fully registers that he has my attention. "Rena! Rena! I was looking for you. I didn't know you could sing so well. Will you sing to me every night instead of reading a book? Please Rena?" His young age and unfamiliarity with words slurs and jumbles his speech a little, but I decipher enough of it to understand his request. Like I have a choice.

"As you wish, young Master Moonshine."

"Starting tonight Rena? Right now?"

"Of course." I suppose I have to start pulling lullabies out of my memories now.

Enya – Storms in Africa pt. 1

Enya – Storms in Africa pt. 2 lyrics

Though I walk through

Warm sands in Africa

Winds will grow soon

To storms in Africa.

How far to go

I cannot say.

How many more

Will journey this way?

Dark skies fall on

Black earth and ivory.

Far from your sun

Clouds now close over me

How far to go

I cannot say.

How many more

Will journey this way?

Storms have come!

Rains wash the earth away

Dark skies fall down

Into another day.

Rains have now come

From storms in Africa

Time will go on

Through Storms in Africa

A/N: Originally, I used Storms in Africa part 2, which features English lyrics but it felt too literal since she actually mentioned Africa, that, and I just really like the way part one sounds better than part two. I have included the lyrics to Storms in Africa part 2 for your viewing pleasure. I apologize for how much I love Enya, so much of her music fits these scenes so well, I'll try and introduce more variety though (don't worry there's going to be a ton of songs used in this story). The playlist has been updated to include both parts of Storms in Africa.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

I lack the ability to appropriately describe what a dream is, but if I had to guess this would be it. All is haze, all is slow, forever stagnant. I move through this sham of a life as if I exist in a waking dream. There is a continuum of hunger that propels me forward through this static place. On one side of that appetite is the constant craving, the urge to feed and be fed, to find nourishment in the love and attraction I coax from my many victims. At the opposite "end" of this hunger caught in perpetuity is my understanding of what it means to be a Siren's victim. What is required, what it feels like to be emotionally fed on and drained from, and the consequences of becoming prey. The hunger strike forced on me has deepened my empathy and unconscious comprehension of what it means to be the prey for my kind.

This state of captivity has shown me what it's like to be hunted. Honestly, I would not have minded living my life without this experience. Despite this insight, I am worried that being abducted is going to have a permanent impact on me somehow after I've managed to escape. Will I grow averse to water? Or maintain a weakened form for the duration of my life? Will I lose touch with my very nature, of how to be a Siren?

I stop and look at my slightly trembling hands and clench them tightly. Has it already begun? What if this is the start? The commencement of the most disastrous erosion of being that any of my kind has ever faced. Will I lose all that composes me? Surely, there must be some way to stop this or halt the process at the very least. Some action that can slow the transformation, retain my _Sirenity, _without me having to feed or swim in the lethal waters below. I must do it now before I unravel into complete discordance.

The panic effervescing within me breaks through any of the restraints I may have had only moments before and a frenzy of action occurs in a last ditch effort to salvage the very nature of myself. My alarm now bubbling its way into my every faculty I maintain control long enough to ensure that no one else is around before I give in to my most primal instinct. _"I lost my heart, my home is the ocean/ The waves underneath will soon be my home/ I will fall asleep."_

Sirens are simple creatures. At the heart of who we is our voices and the power that comes with them. To deny the voice is to deny our life itself and so it is with necessary and wild abandon that I began to sing. Bits and pieces of Sirenic wove their way into the reckless composition. In the ears of humans the noises and freestyle music I was creating would probably sound decent, even passable, or good. If any of my kind were nearby they would find it dreadful at best; then again, if any of my kind were around I wouldn't be in this mess at all. _"I'll close my eyes and dream of days when I wasn't all alone."_

Carelessly, I spin and twirl around the masts and across the open deck. A whirlwind of anxious emotions and nascent need to regain my identity are all that guide the heaviness in my voice and my floating feet. "_All that I know is gone/ Take what is left of me now/ All that I know is gone/ Take what is left of me_."

My cries know no limits because I am without boundaries now. The lamentations exiting my body rocket to the heavens above, pleading for either a return of what I have lost or that I lose everything completely right here and right now. "_Fall deeper and deeper, the sirens are singing your songs._"

The waves crash against the sides of the massive ship with mounting intensity as if taunting me, daring me to fall in when I ventured to dance atop the railing, barely managing to preserve balance every time the ship lurched from the pounding at its sides. The blackened water seems to be beckoning to me, melodically crooning the words someone else would usually fill in as an accompaniment while I return to howling inaudibly in Sirenic. Only I can hear its liquid ringing but the lyrics float around as clear as tonight's sky whilst I tiptoe across the railing without hesitation. "**I'll miss my breath, there's no more left. I'll miss the sound of the wind at my back. The depths have a number, they call you by name.**" The dark below is calling for me, and I ache for its touch, free of hurt, full of life.

"_Fall asleep, Davy Jones calls you/ So fall asleep, fall asleep and dream." _The human tongue slips out again as I descend from the railing and return to my previous condition of turning in and out of loose spirals across the wooden deck. At some point while mid-rotation I spy movement and then a figure. They are small, smaller than the average-sized adult human therefore, this is a child. There is only one youth aboard this ship. The charge thrust upon me. Moonshine.

He seems frozen in his tracks, more so out of curiosity than fear. I glide voluntarily towards him and scoop him up into my arms still singing all the while. I automatically shape any and all songs to avoid impacting those my code will not let me affect when there is either Sirenic notes or any sort of power behind my voice. I don't want to accidentally charm someone I normally wouldn't just because I'm having an emotional breakdown. This ethicality will be my downfall.

Moonshine doesn't seem scared or concerned at all, in fact he looks as if he's enjoying himself rather thoroughly as I revolve around the deck with him in my arms. His little toddler's face is brimming with delight and I continue to sing, not pausing to wonder if he even understands what I'm saying or not. _"All that I know is gone/ Take what is left of me now/ All that I know is gone/ Take what is left of me. Fall deeper and deeper, the sirens are singing your songs." _

Our dance continues for a time, my chords shifting into more ambient, lyric-less ones as I come down from the terror and panic of before. Little Moonshine has relaxed as well, to the point that he has now drifted off to sleep in my arms. He truly is an adorable miniscule thing and I don't hold any ill will against him. After all, it's not his fault his parents captured me. I'm under the impression that they were treasure seeking, like most pirates and collectors of rarity are apt to do.

"_Fall deeper and deeper, the sirens are singing your songs." _ At last I've stopped swaying in place and instead have proceeded to travel below deck in order to bring Moonshine to his bed.

I intended on making my way back to the deck peacefully and quietly, as I still felt far too hungry to safely be near any humans that could become my prey. My wish to remain unseen was unfulfilled as Trofie revealed herself to have been lying in wait for me to reappear. Out of range of her son's quarters she launches into a tirade against my actions.

Once more the things I have done were noticed by prying eyes even though I did not see them. I thought I was alone until Moonshine arrived, and I may have well been, but I'm starting to suspect that these people do not trust me to be alone with their son despite my reassurances that no harm will come to him. I ignore most of her ranting until she begins to gesture wildly at my body. What is it about my appearance that has offended her now? I begin to listen and her comments would have possibly had me laughing if there wasn't merit and truth to them.

"You parade around this ship like some cheap harlot dressed as you are and I told you multiple times that you cannot do that! I have graciously provided you with proper clothing befitting a lady and yet you choose to go without it. But then, you have the gall and nerve to look to my husband for protection from the crewmen's most base of all drives." As the words stab into me like icicles, I note that her voice is so harsh, so freezing cold and it leaves me feeling like I'm caught in the worst winter ever experienced by her native country.

It would seem that in my haste to feel more like a Siren I had removed my human garb without even being conscious of what I was doing. I don't have a response for her, so I just nod and head off to acquire new clothes from the piles that she has given me. I don't know if Trofie was satisfied with her chastisement or not but she did not follow me.

Something has got to change if I hope to live through this experience. I cannot hunt nor feed, and "bathing" is a precarious and relatively ineffective action at best. What am I going to do? I don't want to die but death seems to be my only option at this point. A very slow death, one only brought closer by creeping time; very much the same as humans experience throughout their lifespan. Except, humans aren't required to starve or go without air during their brief existence. Death is coming for me, but only at a sea snail's pace.

I have got to get out of here.

* * *

><p>Sleeping with Sirens – Don't Fall Asleep at the Helm<p>

A/N: From day one of this project's existence when I was gathering songs I knew I had to use this song as some point, it was just too fitting. The Youtube playlist has been updated to include this new addition. playlist?list=PLaUSgEwjCHUBGD80FE5ed5DqdLTiMvCtp


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

As the hours and days spent in captivity turned into weeks and months, little has happened. Moonshine has grown all the while I on the other hand, have been creeping closer and closer to death with each second spent denying the various natures and needs of my species. Moonshine celebrated what humans call a "birth day" recently; he was spoiled and showered in gifts of all varieties and shapes. It was one of the few occasions I've seen the Wrathe family together and happy. Usually, I am not privy to their times of bonding, but Moonshine insisted I attend the party. Little Moonshine turned four and received lots of attention and presents.

I continue to waste away and note day by day how the color in my hair is receding to the encroaching blackness. Although the empty shade has yet to even fill my bangs, I can tell its growing. And no amount of sea water-filled buckets can stop it.

At this moment, it's the middle of the day with a painfully bright sun lacking any sort of cloud cover sharing its harsh nourishment with the world. Despite the empty sky and beautiful waters below, there's an invisible wind fighting the ship. We must have drove right into a massive air current and have yet to succeed in escaping it. Progress is limited due to the fact that the crew cannot keep the sails open without them ripping or furling back up on their own.

Out of all the people on the ship made queasy by the motions, the ever-childlike Moonshine has made a game out of the ship's lurching movements. When the ship begins to dip he runs to one side and when it tilts back the other way as if it were a pendulum, so too does he. Frankly, I don't see what's so amusing about it, but he sees the world through an entirely different lens than I. As long as he doesn't ask me to play along, I don't mind his cheerful giggling. His sea legs are better than some of the other crew members right now as several have taken to clutching the railing with hopes of grounding themselves enough in order to gain stability once more.

I don't feel all that well myself. Not from the ship's movements, no, this illness stems from incessant starvation, an assortment of cravings that I cannot satisfy leading only to debilitating weakness. Truthfully, I don't know why I feel like this right now. There has not been any incident for a while and I've adjusted to this "hibernation" for now. But in the end, I just don't feel like my normal abducted self.

Moonshine laughs and totters his way across the deck with the next dip. I watch him do so but barely, as if I'm seeing him without acknowledging anything in particular. My eyes are open but they're not taking in anything.

I feel the ship lurch hard, making the previous rolls and dips seem like nothing more than gentle rocking; the kind a new mother might use to soothe her crying baby. The robust toss has the crew clutching even harder at the railings but there was one person who are was not prepared for such movement. My vision was that of a panorama, all the traffic caught within my gaze had been occurring in slow-motion. Little Moonshine's unintentional flight passed by me in an unseen blur.

It wasn't until his watery cries of panic reached my ears that I became something was even amiss. I ran to the railing in the direction that he had flown. Ordinarily, a person, even a child as young as Moonshine wouldn't be too much cause for concern if they happened to fall—or in his case, fly-overboard but this is due to the assumption that all those aboard ships know how to survive when in water. I then became aware for the first time of one of the worst facts possible. The young master Moonshine did not know how to swim.

His splashing is frantic and terrified. The small breaths he has been able to obtain are now devoted to exhaling the water that has entered his lungs. A fearsome urge to save, to protect this mortal, no more than a toddler, the spawn of my kidnappers, overcame me. The talons I had unconsciously extended are ripping through my human garb before I've taken time to make the decision.

I am up and over the railing without a second thought to my own safety and I am less than a second away before I've successfully hurled myself into the water. The pain is immediate. As soon as my neck makes contact with the water, the collar's viciousness erupts in my body. Every pathway is alight with hurt, enough to make me double back and abandon my recent choices. Surely his shouts and calls of distress would have attracted someone else's attention. A rescue would have been staged without my help. I owe this family absolutely nothing. And the odds of him surviving would probably still be decently high even if I did not intervene.

Yet here I am, furiously trying to push through the agony as I dive further into the water after him. It didn't take long for his little body to begin sinking. Deeper and deeper I go in order to reach him, swimming in tandem with the poison carving its way through my body. At last, my hand brushes against his little fingers, and I can detect that his faint pulse might soon give out if he goes without oxygen for much longer. Despite knowing that the collar impedes my ability to fully transform which includes impeding my ability to breathe underwater, I use the last of my own breath to resurrect him, or at least keep him hanging on a little bit longer.

I pull the tiny, frail human close to me and press my mouth to his miniscule lips, kicking furiously as I exhale as much as I possibly can. There's a chance we could both die down here in the gloomy depths, despite my best efforts I know I haven't much longer before this accursed contraption leaves me completely immobile. Like the child in my arms, I too shall drown. I shan't ever get over the fact that I, a Siren, will die in the water.

Apparently, that ending is going to happen later rather than sooner, because either the currents, the water gods, someone, or something is on my side as I find just enough strength to break the surface. Still gripping Moonshine fiercely even with the pain making my fingers go numb I send the last of my remaining energy into my voice and shout as best as I can.

My unintelligible yell attracts the attention of the crew who have been franticly running about the deck in what I assume was their attempt to find us. Several ropes with lifesaver buoys are thrown out to us and I link an arm through the closest one, cradling an unconscious Moonshine in the other. A concerned look at him confirms my worst fear, he is very blue and I am unable to tell if he's breathing or not.

We're hauled up rapidly and the boy I risked my life to save is snatched out of my arms. The humans busy themselves with trying to resuscitate him and I'm left to my own devices as the agony racks my dripping body. Like my experiments have taught me, the pain won't subside until I get the collar dried off. That's rather hard to do when there's humans scampering about everywhere with nary a single dry piece of cloth in sight.

Eventually, I muster enough strength to go from laying on the deck to balancing on all fours, to then kneeling. Judging by the coughs I'm hearing, and the collective sigh of relief, Moonshine is okay. I too, would have silently reveled in the fact that my spur of the moment rescue was successful were it not for the precious of a particularly angry Mama Wrathe.

She shrieks for Moonshine to be removed to some room below deck and for those remaining to shove off to another area. Her eyes glint with unrestrained hate when they fall upon me and she raises her golden hand as if she were going to strike me. Instead, she slams it down upon the railing just past my shoulder and leans in close before launching her furious tirade.

"How could you let this happen?! You horrendous creature, you nearly cost my son his life through your neglect! I should have kept you locked up instead of giving you free rein to saunter about this ship! My child nearly died because you failed to watch him! What do you have to say for yourself? Your kind are little more than glorified harlots, why I should—"

I will not sit—or rather, kneel—here and allow myself to be berated by this hysterical woman. I force myself to stand without betraying the slightest sign that doing so caused me immense pain. My movement gave her no choice but remove her arm and I found that the only thing allowing me to keep a semi-calm composure was the act of extending and receding my talons. Nails, talons, nails, talons. One would do nothing more than scratch, if that, the other would take a life before anyone could even think of stopping me.

"I did not ask to be your son's keeper, he is but an unwanted charge thrust upon me. Need I remind you that _you, _and your husband, and this crew, chose to abduct me. It was _my _choice to save your son. In no way am I obligated or required to do so. If this ship were to be boarded by enemies I would sooner make my escape than defend this wicked ship that you dare to call your home." My words cut her deeply and she quiets immediately, as if realizing the gravity of her mistake. Not one to show humanity or be abashed for very long she picks up where she left off but without the careless verbal exhibition.

"Even so, you should have paid greater attention to him." It is now my turn to be wounded because after all, there is truth in her statement. I could have prevented this whole incident by looking after Moonshine more closely. Guilt or no guilt, I fight back once more.

"If he is as precious to you as you claim, perhaps you should teach _your son_ to swim instead of being dependent on someone who is forbidden, by _your family _and its devices nonetheless, to enter the water should he ever need saving."

It is at this time that Barbarro, who I did not see had approached us, contributes to the "conversation" at hand. His presence steadies and calms Trofie, who looks up at him with hopes of support. Instead, to my surprise he looks me dead in the eyes and says, "Thank you for saving our son's life. The loss of him would have hurt this family indescribably." Trofie's jaw drops and I just nod sheepishly while wrapping my arms around myself unconsciously.

No matter what I had just told his flustered wife in anger, if it came down to it I probably would help them in a time of crisis. Or at least, try to protect their child. I really hate my moral code, it seems that it has evolved to demand more than just abstaining from feasting on certain humans but now I will go out of my way to save them rather than look out for my own skin. My mind takes me back to the incident of what feels so long ago, the last time I saw the predatory Sirens that were once part of my choir. I saved a man's life from being eaten only because he was in love; is a child who has yet to experience life not so different from that?

Transom too, has now arrived on the scene and offers to escort me elsewhere in order to dry off and change back into human clothes. We get to the room where my human clothes are stored and Transom offers me a few towels. I reach out to take one but hesitate and then decline. "Thank you for your aid, but I'm of the mind that I should be left alone to deal with the hurt that this brings me." I tap the collar and try to smile through the pain, as if minimizing it and putting on a brave face will make it sting any less.

Unconvinced but still respectful of my wishes, he places a towel on the nearby dresser and exits the room. The door has yet to even finish closing and I've already begun to fall apart at my internal distress. My hands do little to stifle to moans and cries escaping me, the agony that I've bottled up gushes out now that I lack an audience. This torture is nothing like what I experienced when I was in the water. But when I'm below the surface it's impossible to scream. Doing so would only bring about my end far sooner.

I bear what I can for as long as possible; it is probably idiotic and foolish to think I can build up some kind of tolerance or endurance against this invention and its cruelty but I've got to try. There's a chance I might have to brave the waters again someday. I have not given up the hope for escape by the tiniest of margins. But for now, I grab a towel and dry myself off.

Now quieted, I realize that there is a conversation taking place not too far outside my door. I don't know how long it's been going on but considering the tones and the vocabulary used I would say that it most likely concerns me. Today's incident is not just going to instantly disappear with the waning tide. By the sound of it, there are three voices—Trofie's, Barbarro's, and Transom's—but Trofie and Transom are doing most of the speaking.

"Forgive me madam, but I don't understand why you both are so insistent upon keeping her prisoner? Rare creature or not, she is a person too. She just happens to be of a different species. Why must you torture her so? She saved the heir's life despite knowing that it would most likely kill her! Don't you think that a year of enslavement is enough?" Transom's cries on my behalf are touching; much like Barbarro's gratitude, I did not expect a human to stick up for me.

"Have you gone mad Transom, or have you fallen under her spell?" Trofie retorts haughtily. "Do you know how many crewmen we lost trying to capture it? This one alone slaughtered several and you expect us to just let it go?" She laughs but the sound lacks any sort of humor. She is not pleased.

Shouldn't they be attending to the boy who just had a near-death experience rather than argue about my well-being? There is silence and then Transom starts up again. "Then at least take the collar off, that way she could—"

"Never." Trofie says coldly. "Say we did. And then what? It could immediately turn around and kill us all, or worse, leave the ship only to return with its whole pack and set them upon us in order to obtain revenge. You're not thinking Transom, you aren't looking at the bigger picture." Her accent seems to intensify as she talks down to him, poor man.

At this point Barbarro interjects. "While I appreciate the concern, and while I, _we_, are grateful that Sirena saved Moonshine from drowning today, she is too much of a risk to simply be set free. As she stated earlier, she has no obligation to help us at all. It's true we stole her away, and it's a miracle she helped our son, but to remove the collar is to revoke the very safeguard that keeps us from all being murdered. The collar stays on. Unless you would prefer to keep her bound in those nets at all times?"

Transom must have nodded because there is no further discussion coming from him. Satisfied that she finally got her way but determined to obtain the last word, Trofie tells her servant to mind his place and sends him off to complete some task. The humans leave and I retreat to the only place I can find momentary protection from the brutality that is this life.

Deep within the depths of my own mind, I enter a trance.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Nothing progresses forward as slowly as the human year. Each moment is calculated, broken down into its simplest parts. Those parts are added together, stacking upon another to create the next tier. One second, one minute, one hour, one day, one week, one month, one year. It drags on, the same way starfish drag themselves across the rocks and corals decorating the ocean reefs. When living the normal lifestyle of a Siren, time has no meaning, our lives are not dictated but rather, kept in check by the progression of the sun and moon as a reminder that life is still advancing on around us.

Being forced to live in a realm outside of my normal plane of existence, being made to adhere to the human ways of living and abiding by time means that everything creeps forward at a painfully slow rate. I am drying out, both my interior and exterior are withering away. Much like any sea animal outside of its natural habitat, I am decaying, albeit far more gradually than mere mortals can gauge. There are some who might have noticed by now though… both the butler and little Moonshine—who is becoming not so little anymore—being rather perceptive creatures, have remarked on occasion that something about me is off, different, changed.

How much longer do I have? Years or decades? How long will I be imprisoned? How long can I last outside of my home? Moonshine is roughly twice the age he was when I was first boarded this ship. Although he is still every bit as spoiled if not more so now, he still treats me with kindness. I suppose I should be thankful for such a tiny miracle. Unfortunately, this kindness annoys his mother to no end, especially when he looks to me for company instead of his parents. That ferociously cold woman continues to despise me, and I go out of my way to avoid her for the most part.

It's funny how human offspring can mean so much and yet so little to their parents. As if the adults only like them in certain doses and percentages, and must tolerate them for the remaining part of the time. Maybe I am being unfair…

My gaze turns to rest on Moonshine's sleeping form, he is napping in the light of the late afternoon, the sun's rays alighting his form perfectly as he rests in his bed. I sit on the floor, just beyond their reach in order to save my skin from being scorched more quickly than it already is doing on a daily basis.

I refocus my vision once more to being inward, and take into account that not all children have pirates for parents. I would call them villainous but they really are not that "evil." They don't go out of their way to rampage or hurt civilians, since they are mostly the treasure-seeking kind—and only rarities at that—pillaging and conquesting is not necessarily on their agenda. That being said… if you're on the unfortunate side, the one that is the treasure being sought, then of course they are the enemy. Of course they are "evil." Even after all this time though, I still cannot bring myself to hate them.

I endure gruesome pain day after day, torture and endless starvation, feelings that are akin to being flayed alive or having one's very flesh peeled off at the slowest rate possible, and yet I cannot hate them. Is it because of my code? Is it because I have given up on escape, and accepted my fate as a prisoner? Or is it because I have come to care for this little human boy, asleep on his bed? A child who is protected from myself because there is no way I would ever be able to voluntarily bring myself to hurt him. What does it all mean?

Like the rush of waves belonging to an incoming tide, my trance deepens and any awareness of the world around me slips away. A simple daydream forms, I am swimming in the ocean. I can breathe easy, there is no collar binding me to the surface. The cold and the dark are my friends, my allies, my home.

The thought of allies makes me crave companionship, but I am not alone for long. Members of the new choir sing to me from a distance. I ache for them. To be surrounded by their music, to be a part of their song, how I crave it. And yet, no matter how fast I tread the water, nor how forcefully I try to ascend to their level, they elude me.

I follow them up to the surface where at last I catch sight of them. They beckon me to join them. "Come with us," their fingers say, "come hunt." Come _eat. _Hunger propels me forward more than any other motivation. I feel its raw emptiness biting at my core. How I wish to feed.

A grand ship appears. What a monstrously luxurious thing. Its shape seems familiar, its wooden railings bear carvings analogous to… the Typhon. No sooner does the name take root in my mind, the ship's details erupt without hesitation. I find myself unwillingly scaling a side of the ship, moving upward in order to respond to the cries of my brethren. They are screaming and screeching, human blood runs bright and fluidly on the deck. My feet are marred by it once they touch the surface.

I slash at anyone and everyone as I make my way to the source of the screaming. Bodies fall, human to the deck, Siren to the waters below. I cross paths with the hurting Siren in question, only to find that I am trying to rescue a frightened copy of myself; she is trapped beneath the wicked net that burns the flesh of any Siren who touches it.

Our eyes meet, twin whirlpools akin to the ocean water itself and I fuse with her. I blink only to see it is now I beneath the horrid net. But there is no one else, save for humans around me. I cannot save myself. The realization that this is my kidnapping relived, that this daydream has turned into a "nightmare" wrecks me. I cannot escape. I am trapped, for eternity. Tears fall as the pain intensifies, wasted lines of salt cascading down my face. Oh how I wish the hurt would go away…

All at once, the ship starts to slowly turn, from one side to the other, a gentle rocking motion that picks up in speed, effectively blurring all that stood before me. The rocking is enough to pull me from my trance and I "wake" to find my charge has been rocking me for real. His face still bearing signs of sleep, looks concerned as he raises a tiny hand to my face. His fingers clumsily catch and smear the tears at work there. It would seem that I am no longer safe from the humans, even in my own mind. Their presence has infiltrated almost every part of me.

Without a word, he turns back to the bed, and reaches for something laying on it. It is just beyond his reach, thus requiring that he utilize the very tips of his toes in order to seize it. The object now in his hands he runs back over to me, quick feet closing the minute distance between us.

He presents me with a stuffed animal, a soft-smiling octopus that is well-worn from years of play and naps. "When I have bad dreams, I would sleep with Octo and he would chase them away. Sometimes, he even catches the dreams and locks them in a big chest down at the bottom of the ocean. That's what Transom says anyway." Pushing the plush toy into my lap he continues, "I am too big to need Octo anymore, so I want you to have him. He'll protect you when you sleep too."

The gesture is sweet, and although no material thing can actually protect me from the daily horrors his human caretakers have thrust on me, I accept his gift. "Thank you, Moonshine. I will treasure it." And I truly will.

Grinning, he rubs his eyes with his free hands and moves towards the door. He beckons for me to follow him—presumably to help him obtain a snack—with one hand while the other continues to rub at his face. I stand and follow him, Octo the plush octopus being held in my soft grip.


End file.
